He takes the two steel cups and fills them both from the same bottle, pushing one half way across the table to me. Assuming he wants me to drink, I retrieve it, raising the glass to my nose. There’s a faint smell of alcohol. I lower it, elbow on table and stare into the glass. The man looks distorted through the liquid but I see his head move so I look around the glass- he glances at the remote on the table.
He knows I know. I feel compelled to put the glass down. The sound of contacting the table makes it seem far heavier. As I lowered the glass, he reached for the remote. I pick it back up but his hand rests steadily there anticipating the need to use it.
I decide to indulge him in this game and seem broken. I feign a look of fear and sip from the glass; vodka, smooth. There’s something that feels quite normal about this. I finish the rest of the serving with confidence and set the glass down, staring him in the eyes. He’s observing me now; the remote has been stowed in his pocket, hands folded. Finally relaxing, his weight shifts to the back of the chair. I sense patience rather than control.
Wait, why does he have three eyes, four? It’s only now the unidentifiable aftertaste appears. I struggle to seem normal but fail. The lights blur and things spin a little. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. Ok, settled- open.
“Tell me what you remember.” His English is impeccable.
“299-05-3104. 910-497-5101. 3. 11. 88. 15000955. 40UEF7167011895.” It feels good to say them out loud, they’ve been rolling around in my head since the shock. Now I’m wondering if I’ve revealed something I shouldn’t have but I didn’t feel like I could control myself.
He writes them down efficiently and looks up. I don’t have anything else to say but it’s obvious he’s waiting for more.
“What’s your name?”
“I don’t know, do you?”
“I’m asking the questions. How were you injured?”
“You tortured me.”
He removes the remote from his pocket and holds the button. The pain that starts in my head seems to be drawing all my muscles up toward my neck as if attached by internal strings. As my body stiffens in the chair, I start to shake.
He releases the button and I gasp for air.
“This is not torture, it’s electro-shock therapy.” He says with a wry smile. “Besides, I’m asking you about the injuries you sustained prior to entering our care. I know you’ve seen them.”
I want to be sarcastic and ask him if he enjoys watching me on the camera but there’s isn’t enough breath yet and I desire to improve my situation.
Care?! The anger rises within me and I scan arms reach for improvised weapons. If he puts that remote down, could I hit him in the head with this glass fast enough? What would be the follow up to that? How far could I actually get before being shot/captured/killed? No, I need to wait- play this situation against them. Improve things, remember? I’m not strong enough for this yet.
Wait, who’s Ben?
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