Requiem

A woman is the victim of heinous torture for information-depicts her struggle for life.

I woke up and felt a sharp pain. Instinctively I attempted to calm my laboured breathing, hoping they would not discern the gasp which emanated from my body moments before as my return to consciousness. Senses alert, muscles tense, I strained for a shred of evidence that I was not alone. I slowly allowed my eyes to open and adjust to the lack of light within my prison. It was a small and bedraggled room. What little paint on the walls was peeling away; revealing the dark, rough brickwork beneath.

         As my leg gave an involuntary spasm, paralyzing pain wracked through my body due to the bullet lodged within the muscle and the endless hours of meaningless torture so recently endured. Cursing my ailments I struggled to sit up straight on the earthy ground. The new suit I once wore with pride for my dream FBI job was in tatters, stained with mud, sweat and blood.

         Hunger clawed at my stomach, while dehydration assaulted my mind. My temples thudded like thunder, increasing and decreasing with each ragged breath - exaggerating my irregular heart beat. The tempo was entrancing, as though my mind was ushering me to recoil inside it, abandoning my bodily aches and fears. But I knew escaping would not be so easy.

         My leg gave another jolt, while a fresh wave of blood began to ooze from the wound. A dull clink informed me that there was another object in the room besides the rickety chair to which I had been strapped not so long ago. I hauled my legs around so I could reach this mysterious object. The effort this took virtally drained my strength reserves due to the sheer weight of my destroyed limbs. Nearing the item I recognised a distinguished sound, though of what I could not recall. The more I attempted to identify it, the further I came from achieving my goal - like the dream you so aspired to complete that merely floated farther away.

         The object was round and fairly small. I inched slightly to the right in order to catch the glimmer of light that penetrated the crack hewn through the door. My brain was sluggish, and took a few moments to comprehend what was laid before my eyes. Maggots. They wriggled and squelched in what appeared to be the remains of a cooked chicken carcass, contained within a mangled metal bowl. Provided for my breakfast no doubt, oh how thoughtful these terrorists are. Despite the fact my stomach was empty, I couldn’t help but vomit at the sight. Body quivering with exhaustion, mind-numbing agony and the reality of the whole predicament, I edged gradually towards the darkest corner of the room. Praying for my swift demise, I permitted the pain to engulf my soul.

         Time was of no importance. Every waking moment seemed like an eternity within the confines of my mind. In an attempt to disregard the deliberate hurt that was mutilating my being, I drew upon a memory of a happier time. Baking rays of the sun beat down upon myself and John as we lie between the ancient sycamores that are speckled around Bryant Park, contemplating excursions for the summer months that lay before our feet. Free from the stress of our demanding jobs, free from the busy city life . . . free from pain . . .  Dreams were lost once more. Do they not hear the truth in my pleading cries? I know nothing of military plans - that which my husband ascertains is not confided in me.

         A teeth-jarring blast awoke me entirely from me pensive state. The three perpetrators within my scope were dazed by the din. Commanding roars and the stomping of heavy boots echoed through the cold stone hallway, down towards my cell at the end of the passage. As the clamour became louder, my captors attempted to flee but the others were advancing too quickly. 

Shots reverberated in the marrow of my bones as the men were killed before my eyes. Only then did I realise my own life’s state. I counted twelve rifles, all aimed in my direction. As one lone man stepped forward into the room, panic overtook me, and I lost all sense of existence. 

         For the many shafts of light that bounced around, I could see little as my eyes adjusted to the piercing brightness. Cogs in my mind turned slowly. There is no need for haste now. Not in death. This bitter sweet nothingness could be nothing else, but death.

         But should there be light in the darkness of death? Should there be this ache in my heart, yearning for something more?

         And then I heard it. I heard the voice I longed to hear amidst my days of suffering. Softly he spoke to me. John’s deep and gentle tone calmed my mind, the way only a husband’s can. He told me of a happy time; one that was soon to begin, and far from an end. A time when I would breathe the fresh air again, when they could hurt me no more.

Author's Note

This is an essay I wrote for my english class (JC-3rd year) on Friday (21/05/10), any feedback / suggestions appreciated.

Reviews

[Cassie Meno]

Well, at least it has a happy ending haha. I like how, even though you don't go through the torture scenes, where she obtained the majority of her injuries, you still manage to portray how much pain she's in. I'm curious to see if you can't mix John into the story a bit earlier to emphasize how much she cares about him. It might make the rescue scene a bit more powerful. Just a suggestion, although I also see how you may have wanted to hide the reason for her captivity a bit longer to build anticipation, which definitely worked. Very well written.

[snapjack]

You know, I listened to this while just happening to have the song Requiem and it fit perfectly with the story, don't know if you did it on purpose, but very cool. And the story is amazing. Great detail that mixes in with her thoughts. I think it's really good