The State

The State

         It was the beginning of the end. A member of The State's "Peace Squad" was knocking at our door. Melissa was burning our documents, but not quickly enough. The knocking grew more urgent. I rooted through our books and threw any I knew contained names of our contacts or innocents into the fire, but I wouldn't finish. The knocking ceased. This didn't fool us, we kept shoveling.
         Seconds later, drills pierced through the door's lock; three members of the Peace Squad burst through close behind. We were forced to our knees immediately.
         "Papers" demanded the Captain softly. We didn't comply. "We need your papers, citizens. You know the consequences if you do not comply," his voice was getting harsher. We didn't comply. Melissa motioned for me to use my capsule. This would be the end. "Papers, now. This is your last warning. If you do not comply, you will be restrained," with anger now clear in his voice. It was too late. We would not comply. We would not be restrained. I motioned to Melissa that I was ready.
         We were wrong. We were all wrong. The Peace Squad spotted our move far before we made it. As we were about to place the capsules into our mouths, we were hit by a jolt of electricity. We couldn't control our muscles against the electricity. We couldn't do it. We were going to be restrained. We both fought hard against the influence of the electricity, but it was too much. Everything faded to black.

         I woke up in a cell. Alone. It was already too late for me, I was to be tortured and put to death. The most I could hope for was the chance that Melissa had managed to swallow her capsule or fight back. I would never know.
         The cell was very small. It was, at largest 3 foot by 3 foot with the ceiling hanging barely above my head. There was a small hole with an obvious purpose on the floor of the cell. It was dark in the cell. There was no light other than the light sneaking under the cell door. I was, at least, not chained down meaning I could fidget around in the tiny amount of space provided me. Only the finest was provided for prisoners of The State.
         Nothing was happening. I was left in that cell in the silence, alone. There were no sounds of footsteps outside my door. No noise was made by the light bulbs in the hall. The only things that I heard were the sounds that I made myself. This was going to be my life until death, with torture a near certainty in between my stays in this cell.
         A very long period of time passed, it was driving me insane. The lights outside of my cell never turned off, so it could have been days, months, or even a year. It also could have been hours, but I had no way of telling other than my best guess.
A new Captain opened my cell and pulled me out into a large, white room. I fell to the ground because I was weak from malnourishment. He picked me up with the help of another officer and dragged me to another set of doors, all in near silence. The doors opened when we neared them, and to my disappointment all that I could see through them was another blank white room. We passed through many rooms like this until we met a final set of doors. I was brought inside.
This room was mostly the same as the others. There was one key difference however. The presence of a table in the middle of the room, which I was placed onto. I couldn't get up, I couldn't fight back; I didn't have the strength. The Captain and officer left the room.
I was left on the table for another period of time, but this one, obviously, shorter than the first. Yet another Captain entered the room.
"We know who you are. We know about your operations. You know the penalty. However, we also know that you're not alone. We would be willing to lessen the penalty if you... release some information on your colleagues." The words from the Captains always sounded the same: uncaring, monotone, disgusting.
I would never give them anything, especially not that. I turned my head to the Captain, and I spat on the Captain's shoe.
The Captain's face turned bright red. The next moment, a bright flash and loud noise were followed by searing pain that shot through my leg and up my spine. I convulsed violently and grabbed my leg. I could feel warm liquid on my hands. It was racing to escape my body. My vision began to fade as I watched the Captain storm out of the room.

When I woke up once again, I was in a new place. The walls no longer felt metallic. They felt more like stone. There was slightly more space. There was still no light.
I noticed a strong pressure on my leg, along with remnants of the pain from the bullet wound. To my surprise, the leg had been bandaged. Apparently I must have been deemed as too valuable to kill in torture, and I was even important enough to warrant basic medical care.
While this may have appeared a good thing to some, I viewed the situation as it was. High class prisoners are often tortured more than other prisoners and may even receive highly publicized, painful deaths to set an example. I had to hope that this wasn't my fate. I assumed however, that this was part of the reason for my change in scenery. I was being moved closer to the capital. Hopefully I was wrong.
I was once again left alone in silence, but this time the sounds of footsteps outside the door were a regular occurrence. As the days went on, the frequency dwindled.
I was, as before, dragged out into a hallway by another new Captain. I collapsed just as before. This time, I was not picked up. I was beaten until I stood, and I was lead to a set of doors. The doors lead directly into the room with the table. There was blood on the table, but I did as expected and climbed onto it. Who I assumed was the Captain from the last prison met me once again brandishing his gun.
"You know why you have been relocated. You have been marked as a high class prisoner as ordered by The Supreme himself. You know what this entails. I give you the opportunity one last time before you die. Tell us about your colleagues or you will face death." He spoke mostly with an air of authority, but worry was evident in some of his words.
I said nothing.
"You will talk." The Captain now sounded very openly angry.
I was shot once again, in the other leg, this time however, I did not faint. I remained awake, in pain, grasping my leg and gritting my teeth. I couldn't take this much longer.
"You will talk" repeated the Captain, pointing the gun to my left arm. He had begun to look worried, I couldn't understand why.
I spat on him once again.
Raging with anger, he aimed the gun to my head. "This is your last chance, wretch, talk or I end your life."
With this sentence, chunks of the ceiling poured down from the sky. The sound of gunfire was audible throughout the air. The bullet pierced my head. It was the end.