I recommend starting at the beginning (It will make a lot more sense.) Click HERE. There are links at the bottom of each segment/episode to the next one.
“Do you recognize this?”
He pulls the photo from the folder and slides it to me. Date/time stamp indicates 9 November 2004 1437 UTC. I study the photograph. I recognize the area but it takes time and greater focus to interpret what’s happening at street level. My stomach rolls and I push it back to him.
“Your face says what your mouth won’t, Ben. Why must we continue this struggle, you and I?”
“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!” I scream.
“You Americans see death so differently. Here, we do what we must without question or hesitation. Did you cry for the boy? His mother?”
“I… I…” My voice trails off and I put my head down on the table. There’s a mixture of rage, remorse, and fear swirling in my mind.
“Ben, answer me.”
He’s using that calm tone that precedes something bad. How long have I been in this place? I don’t remember being here for an extended period. Am I this easy to break? Why am I resisting? – You’re a Marine dammit! Be that pain-loving, sarcastic killer you were trained to be.
“I laughed so hard I cried. What’s it to you, anyway?!”
A slight smirk appears on his face and he leans back in his chair with glass in hand. After a sip, he holds it up to the light and swirls it.
“We’ve been here before, Ben. I just want to know if you’re ready to take the next step.”
“What do you mean, been here before?”
It feels like electricity is emanating from my head and feet, converging in my chest. This floor has become all too familiar.
I pull myself up onto the chair. Forearms on the table, head in hands I wait for it to come again. The extended silence makes me look up. He’s still looking at me, sipping from his glass with a look of amusement.
https://mentalgrenade.com/potm-12/“What’s your name?” I ask matter-of-factly. This is the beginning of me trying to understand him.
“Veni.” His gaze never varies, there are no tells of any kind. “I have answered you. Now, please tell me why you were sent here.”
“I was sent here?” Why would someone send me here?
“Yes. What memories have returned to you? The sooner you cooperate the sooner we can help you return home.”
“You’re torturing me, it seems highly unlikely you would just send me home when you’re done.”
“We only need to know what you know, Ben. Up till now you’ve been resistant. Are you willing to try experimental therapy to regain your memory?”
“Drugging and shocking me is proven then, is it?”
“You’ve shown us that there is some effectiveness to it, yes.”
“What therapy do you have in mind?”
“We’ll talk more tomorrow. For now, you should rest.”
As I’m led back to my cell, my mind is churning on what Veni has planned. Despite being sure this is what he intended, I’m consumed by pensive curiosity. I sit in the corner with the best view out the window and strain to remember what could’ve brought me here.
I sense he’s telling the truth about how long I’ve been here. I’m a Marine and can at least remember that I hate the long hair that is almost down to my shoulders. Small details seem so close but I’m afraid that I’m imagining them rather than remembering.
As I lean my head against the wall, I close my eyes. The floor seems to disappear and I am falling! I sit up with a jerk and open my eyes, instinctively looking down at my wrist but there’s nothing there. My heart isn’t slowing and I’m covered in sweat. After this incident repeats several times, I decide to keep my eyes shut and see where I go…
Gurinder Rana
March 10, 2021 11:17In