Kamaria's Light

Chapter 1

A cold floor and pain. I'm a curled up mess on the floor, my body's stiff and sore from all the 'sessions' with the interrogator. This is my life now. It's...so far removed from what I grew up with. A groan escapes as I try to sit up. I manage with a few uttered curses. What my mother would say to see me in this state. I can hear her now 'Oh, Kamaria. A lady must always be elegant, no mater the setting.'
It's been three, maybe four days since I was tossed into this cell. It's mirrored walls are all I've known since, that and the new found pain from all the wounds left over from those sessions.

My reflection startles me out of my daze. I don't recognize the girl staring back at me. My usually impeccable straight black hair hangs around my head in matted clumps, my once porcelain face now holds scars and bruises. It's my eyes that shock me the most. They're not my eyes. Still blue, but there's a coldness in them. A glacial blue. I turn away...I'm not ready to face the person I've become.

Enough. Sitting in the middle of the cell worries me. Any one of these walls could be a door. Nope...a corner would be better. Getting into the corner though, my body is already in protest over the very thought. No. Choice.
I'd like to say that I crawled into that corner without complaint. But no. It takes more effort than I expect. But after a few agonizing moments of pain and more uttered curses, I make it to the safety of the corner. Nothing to do now but wait. I lean my head back and stare up at the ceiling.

Tears well up in my eyes. I blink them away in frustration. I won't let them see me cry. I won't let them break me.
I shut my eyes and try to control my breathing. A sob escapes me and I can't hold it back anymore. The tears start to fall and I cry.
I cry for what feels like hours.
Sleep finds me, or what passes for sleep in a place like this. I dream. Dream that it never went wrong. That I'm still just a normal girl without a care in the world.
A soft click and faint hissing sound rouses me from my dream. I blink my eyes open. One of the walls of the cell has split open. A door. I groan. In the doorway stands my chief tormentor in this place. My interrogator. If the smirk on his face is any sign. He's been enjoying out little 'sessions'
''I do hope that you are feeling a little more communicative today, Lady Orvos.'' he mockingly uses my title. '' Or perhaps you still wish to do this the more...painful way.'' my gaze falls to the sleek black cylinder he holds in his hand. He follows my gaze. His smile grows as understanding crosses his face. The cylinder crackles with electricity and I flinch.
His laugh fills the room. ''Don't be afraid.'' The door seals as he steps onto the room.
I will not let him break me. I won't.
'' Do your worst!" I snarl at him.
'' You will not cow me." the amusement falls from his face. He definitely wasn't expecting that defiance from me.
"Very well." I hear those words right before he hits me. Then everything that follows is pain.

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I'm on the floor again. It's been a while. I'm on my back, staring at the ceiling. My interrogator is pacing up and down the cell. I think I've frustrated him. The thought causes me to smile. I wince. Even smiling hurts. I decide to have a little more fun with him. "I don't think you're very good at your job." I peer up at him. He stops pacing and glares at me.
"is this your first time?" I bat my eyelashes at him sweetly.
I barely see it. I feel it though. He kicks me in my side hard enough that the air leaves my chest. I curl over onto my side. The pain is a knife in my side. "That wasn't necessary." I manage grit out. My voice barely a whisper. Gritting my teeth helps with the pain, but something is definitely broken.

I barely register myself being pulled up by my shirt. I'm hauled up of the floor until my face is inches from the interrogator's. His face is a mask of pure contorted rage. "I've had just about enough of your insolence, you brat." he seethes '' Your father is a traitor and so are you.'' he releases me and I fall gracelessly to the floor. '' Tell me where he is! " I should be afraid. I should be shaking, scurrying back into the safety of the corner. Instead, I laugh. It starts out as a chuckle and builds into a full blow laugh. I wince as the laugh causes pain to bloom through my chest. " Do you need a minute? " I breath as the laugh finally dies down.