Chapter 9.2

After sun rise, the doctor stirred, and half-awake he rolled out of bed and drew the curtains. Wordlessly he left through the unlocked doors, which he left ajar. My body was stiff and heavy; the pain killers were wearing out this past hour, and the pain was slowly returning. Maybe he knew, or maybe he was just careless, leaving the door ajar. But even if I made a move, he was right, I don't think I could have got far. I don't know why they would waste something a precious as medicine on their enemy, but once they got what they wanted, they'd have no need for me. What should I do?

Moments later the soldier from yesterday returns, and I don't have time to figure it out. He slowly approaches the bed, "hello there, remember me? I'm the one who found you. My name is Luke, whats your name?" he asked. "can you hear me?" he asked again when I didn't reply. I was captured by the enemy- I had these horrible ideas running through my mind of all the terrible things they could do to me. Worse, than what Rikon squad had already done, it had to be worse didn't it? They were the enemy, right? This act of kindess, the soft bed, and the pain killers, it was all a ruse, right? They'll torture me next, won't they? They think I have information, and they'll hurt me for it, and then they'll kill me.

"Are you ok?" he asks again, he kneels next to the bed. He was so close, I could see the lines on his face, and the tan marks left by his uniform. He could just reach out, with those strong hands and strangle me to death. It would be easy for those hands, and I was powerless, almost paralysed. I couldn't stop those hands.

"Are you mute? Deaf?" he asked.

I stared blankly into space; if he thought I couldn't understand, then maybe he wouldn't hurt me. I hoped in vain.

"Look, I just want to know your name. If I know your name, I can try and find your family and you can go home."

What? Go home? He's not going to hurt me? It had to be a lie, a way to gain my trust or something, and once they gained my trust, they'd slowly ask more intrusive question until they got what they wanted, and in that moment, I would die.

"If I don't know your name, I can't help you; No-one going to hurt you." He adds. He was lying. He had to be.

"you're not going to hurt me?" I asked, trying to detect the lie. I couldn't believe it. But this man seemed so different from all the soldiers I have met before. His face was kind, and his voice was soft; I didn't want to believe it, but this man seemed good. But I knew it was dangerous to think that.

"No!" he exclaims, then composes himself to continue, "I'm not going to hurt you. After you're better, I'm going to try and get you home." It had to be a lie. Why would anyone do that for their enemy?

"I don't believe you." I mutter. He must be trying to trick me, he must be. But I wouldn't be tricked, I needed to survive.

He looked taken back by my accusation, and he stood up straight. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, thinking better of whatever he was about to say.

He returned later with a bowl in his hands. "it's your breakfast." He places the bowl on the side of table, and I look between him and the bowl. The man, Luke, he looked kind, and the food, some sort of creamy porridge. But his kind face grew seeds of mistrust in my mind- looking kind made him dangerous. Even if a man looked gentle, he could still slit your throat.

"Do you want me to feed it to you?" he asked, looking puzzled.

I glared at him, "no." I answer shortly.

He shifts awkwardly, "well I'll come back later to get the bowl."

I dozed for a while and came very close to sleep, but I was always conscious enough to know what was going on around me. The doctor came to check on my wounds, where we barely exchanged a word about last night. Most of the time I was left alone to ponder when this charade of kindness would end, and their patience worn too thin.

"You didn't eat it. Don't you like it?"

I ignored his question. There was no point answering a question posed under such pretence- I wouldn't play along with it.

I ignored any food and water they brought me, no matter how hungry I became, and their frustration grew but I wouldn't give in.

"Why don't you eat anything? You won't even drink." He complained, and when I don't answer, he sighs.

Food was easy to contaminate with petrenthorol, or something of the like. I remember Emmerson Lee, how painful and easy it was for Rickon to force information out of him; even for his wife, his family, he couldn't put up any resistance at all. I didn't want to know how I would fare against it, even without those familial attachments. I didn't care about what information they took, but once they were done, it would be a knife to the throat and I knew that. Treating me must just be a way of prolonging my life long enough to get the information they needed.

"You'll die. A normal person will die after three days without water; you're on your second." I didn't want to admit it, but it was true, I was starting to feel the effects of dehydration, and soon, I would die anyway. But what would be quicker? As soon as I give in, I would be killed soon after, so even if hurts, I have to do this. I have to hold on and find another way out of here.

He grunts with frustration and marches off to his little hut at the end of room. I won't give them what they want, let him be frustrated!

My dozes become deeper, and eventually, despite all my efforts, I fall in a dark painful sleep.