Memoirs of the Forgotten

[SevereTrinity]

Time passed as the minutes melded into hours which melded into days. How long I had been imprisoned for, I knew naught. I was kept in a cell which had one dim fluorescent light that allowed me to see the rare food I was brought. Nothing but bread. When I should have been in the VIP chambers of a Curacao city-resort, I was instead a prisoner forced to defecate in the corner of my cell. As the days crawled by the stench increased; vomit soon added to the sickly aroma of the cell.

I was not spoken to, but the agony that had haunted me before came back to me many times. I suffered phantasms each night, only to awaken to a real life incarnation of the same nightmare. They took more and more information out of me, things that would have been trivial to them; my childhood, my upbringing in the orphanage. Everything was brought before me in a torrent of despondent failures and magnificent achievements. One thing that was clear to me in retrospect; I was definitely a proud if not arrogant person.

One thing I could garner from my imprisonment up until that point- whoever was in charge of the operation was ruthless and had the obedience of his men; whether by respect or by fear, I knew not, but I was more inclined towards the latter.

I seemed to be a 'special' prisoner, for lack of a better term. At night I heard screams of men in anguish and woman in pain. My only guess was that the guards were callous creatures who enjoyed the feeling of exerting their superiority over men and woman; to make them feel lowly, to turn them slowly unto but a husk of their former self.

Another thought troubled me. Tristan, my beloved, was still alive. Maybe even somewhere on this base. That thought alone was what kept me going. I knew that if I did try anything, the leader of this base would kill my husband. He did not have the sound of a man of empty threats.

I needed something. Someone. All I needed in this world, right now, was a single ounce of hope.