Alec Ward was experiencing the initial effects of white torture. He knew this because of a recent unit in his modern history class, where he learned about interrogation techniques around the world. The isolation and sensory deprivation had settled deep into his bones. He experienced loneliness and confusion so pervasive that sometimes he forgot what he looked like. Frantic minutes passed while he fought to remember his mother’s name. If he opened his eyes, the dizziness was overpowering and he would dry heave.
A more appropriate term would be black torture. He was in a dark room underground; not a white room, like he’d learned about at school. He wasn’t being interrogated. He felt forgotten.
He was thirsty again. He’d been hungry for two days.
His only companions were the flies and insects that penetrated his bunker to inspect the bucket of urine.
Today, however, as he surfaced from unconsciousness, he realized he wasn’t alone. The muffled echoes of the room were different. His scuffles caromed into the corner and died there.
A man was with him. Silent and unmoving.
Alec recoiled but was too disoriented to speak for a full minute. When he did, his voice sounded like a frog’s and the words were unintelligible.
The man in the corner twitched. And stood.
“You’re awake,” he said. “Good. I brought water and food.”
If Alec had been in a more sane frame of mind, he’d note the man’s voice was thick with emotion. He’d been crying.
Alec croaked again.
“This was supposed to be simple,” said the man. “I wish you weren’t still here. But he won’t stop, so what am I supposed to do? I won’t do nothing.”
Alec cowered from the enormous voice. His shoulder bumped against the water bottles.
“I have to kill him,” said the man, still sad and angry. “I don’t want to. But he’s blaspheming. He brought it on himself.”
Alec didn’t understand. After the prolonged silence, the words sounded like ear-splitting thunder in his ears.
A door opened. Cold air rushed in. Some of the flies escaped.
Outside, rain didn’t actively fall but it had. The steps were slick and a rivulet of water overflowed the doorframe to trickle into Alec’s dungeon.
The man watched the puddle and then looked at the sky devoid of stars. Heavier rain would fall. A lot of it.
“The rivers will swell. To wash away…our sins. And anything else.” A pause and he repeated, “I have to kill him. Soon. Then it’s over.”
He closed the door and left Alec alone again.