Blood dripped down the man's distinctively tan skin, past the epicanthic fold of his eyes, falling down to pool on the desk. His hands laid palm down on the arms of the chair, and the interrogator smashed them against the wood with his fist. The prisoner bit into his lip, drawing more blood. It had a bitter, metallic taste.
"We know who your family is, Talara," the interrogator spoke, raising a fist with iron knuckles.
Another man, hiding in the dark corner of the room, spoke up quickly. "Stop. He has a trial tomorrow, he needs his jaw intact to speak."
"He doesn't need to speak, he'll only incriminate himself further!" the interrogator retorted.
"He needs his jaw so he can deliver his plea," the man continued. "Besides, I think he's had enough." His eyes cast their gaze upon the broken terrorist from the shadows. Talara did not even look up, he kept his eyes down, gasping for breath.
The interrogator grumbled, taking off the metal brace for his fist before walking to the door and rapping on it, "Bring in the girl!"
The protests of a resistant bulkhead followed, and the door whined open. A little girl walked into the room, scared and alone. "Ashok!" she shouted. The terrorist looked up, giving away his weakness. His sister stood on the other side of the room, and it took every ounce of his energy to speak her name.
"Priya."
The interrogator grabbed the girl as she was about to race over to her broken and bruised brother. "Your mother is here as well. You don't want me to hand her your sister after we give her the same treatment we have given you, do you? You want your sister to go to school, you want her to have a life? We can take it away from her if you don't give us what we want."
Ashok looked at the interrogator with eyes consumed with rage. The interrogator pushed the girl to the wall, her head knocking back and slapping the brick with a disgusting crack. She let out a cry that made Ashok wince.
"We can revoke your entire families citizenship, your sister will never see a book again; your mother will be forced into slavery to support her own meager existence, selling her body for change to buy food for her daughter. Is that what you want to condemn your family to?"
"You are scum," Talara coughed.
The tension in the air was palpable, even the little girl was afraid to cry from the blow she had just received. "I have not murdered thirteen innocent people," the interrogator hissed. He looked to the girl, "Your brother killed people. He killed people like your mother and father," he looked at Ashok, the girl looking at him as well with eyes that spoke all the words she could not.
You mean nothing to me.
Ashok turned his eyes back down to the floor, and the interrogator began again. "Who are you, Ashok? What turned you into a murderer? Is it your rich, family-oriented upbringing? Is it the fact that your family did everything they could to give you the best life you could imagine? Is it some girl? What turned you into the savage bastard that you are, what made you capable of allowing another man to threaten your sisters life, and your only response being to look at the floor and disown your kin?"
Ashok's eyes looked down to the floor, and the interrogator kept his promise. His fist smashed into the little girls face, sending her small body flying to the floor. His boot crashed into her gut, cracking ribs and winding her so that she could not scream in pain. She gasped for breath and cried, spasms shooting through her body in pain.
Ashok began to cry when he heard his sister, and the interrogator picked up the broken girl, she could be no more than six. "Look at her Ashok," he shouted over the girls screams. The prisoner winced and looked at his sister. "Tell me what I want to know, and you will give her the best thing you could possibly give, a future. Stop thinking of yourself, damnit! You've already damned yourself, now think of your family."
Talara broke down into tears, his quivering lips slathered in drool. "Yes. Yes, they've been giving us money. Money and more."
"Tell me more, now."
Ashok looked to his broken sister and continued. "They've been wiring us money through a special account at Citizen's Bank. I don't know where they've been sending it from. We get a phone call that tells us what to do. We didn't plan to kill the people at Pasha, but when the police arrived we had no choice but to fight back."
"What else have they given you?"
"They give us equipment, mostly explosives and guns."
"What was your mission, Talara?"
"We were going to bomb locations in Pasha," he hesitated, looking at his sister to give himself strength. "Make her better, make her stop crying," he pleaded.
"Finish, and I will do more than that. I will guarantee she goes to a university and has a future."
"The locations were... the citizen's council, the military depot, and the another location; they hadn't told us yet. We had just found out the targets the day the police raided."
The interrogator grunted at the good police work. "So, they were in touch with you the day of the fight?"
"Yes."
The interrogator stepped towards the door and slammed his fist on it, picking up the little girl. "Get me a medic, ASAP!" he shouted. He turned back to Talara, "I can give your sister a life, Ashok, but I can't give you yours."
"I know," he sobbed.
"We know who your family is, Talara," the interrogator spoke, raising a fist with iron knuckles.
Another man, hiding in the dark corner of the room, spoke up quickly. "Stop. He has a trial tomorrow, he needs his jaw intact to speak."
"He doesn't need to speak, he'll only incriminate himself further!" the interrogator retorted.
"He needs his jaw so he can deliver his plea," the man continued. "Besides, I think he's had enough." His eyes cast their gaze upon the broken terrorist from the shadows. Talara did not even look up, he kept his eyes down, gasping for breath.
The interrogator grumbled, taking off the metal brace for his fist before walking to the door and rapping on it, "Bring in the girl!"
The protests of a resistant bulkhead followed, and the door whined open. A little girl walked into the room, scared and alone. "Ashok!" she shouted. The terrorist looked up, giving away his weakness. His sister stood on the other side of the room, and it took every ounce of his energy to speak her name.
"Priya."
The interrogator grabbed the girl as she was about to race over to her broken and bruised brother. "Your mother is here as well. You don't want me to hand her your sister after we give her the same treatment we have given you, do you? You want your sister to go to school, you want her to have a life? We can take it away from her if you don't give us what we want."
Ashok looked at the interrogator with eyes consumed with rage. The interrogator pushed the girl to the wall, her head knocking back and slapping the brick with a disgusting crack. She let out a cry that made Ashok wince.
"We can revoke your entire families citizenship, your sister will never see a book again; your mother will be forced into slavery to support her own meager existence, selling her body for change to buy food for her daughter. Is that what you want to condemn your family to?"
"You are scum," Talara coughed.
The tension in the air was palpable, even the little girl was afraid to cry from the blow she had just received. "I have not murdered thirteen innocent people," the interrogator hissed. He looked to the girl, "Your brother killed people. He killed people like your mother and father," he looked at Ashok, the girl looking at him as well with eyes that spoke all the words she could not.
You mean nothing to me.
Ashok turned his eyes back down to the floor, and the interrogator began again. "Who are you, Ashok? What turned you into a murderer? Is it your rich, family-oriented upbringing? Is it the fact that your family did everything they could to give you the best life you could imagine? Is it some girl? What turned you into the savage bastard that you are, what made you capable of allowing another man to threaten your sisters life, and your only response being to look at the floor and disown your kin?"
Ashok's eyes looked down to the floor, and the interrogator kept his promise. His fist smashed into the little girls face, sending her small body flying to the floor. His boot crashed into her gut, cracking ribs and winding her so that she could not scream in pain. She gasped for breath and cried, spasms shooting through her body in pain.
Ashok began to cry when he heard his sister, and the interrogator picked up the broken girl, she could be no more than six. "Look at her Ashok," he shouted over the girls screams. The prisoner winced and looked at his sister. "Tell me what I want to know, and you will give her the best thing you could possibly give, a future. Stop thinking of yourself, damnit! You've already damned yourself, now think of your family."
Talara broke down into tears, his quivering lips slathered in drool. "Yes. Yes, they've been giving us money. Money and more."
"Tell me more, now."
Ashok looked to his broken sister and continued. "They've been wiring us money through a special account at Citizen's Bank. I don't know where they've been sending it from. We get a phone call that tells us what to do. We didn't plan to kill the people at Pasha, but when the police arrived we had no choice but to fight back."
"What else have they given you?"
"They give us equipment, mostly explosives and guns."
"What was your mission, Talara?"
"We were going to bomb locations in Pasha," he hesitated, looking at his sister to give himself strength. "Make her better, make her stop crying," he pleaded.
"Finish, and I will do more than that. I will guarantee she goes to a university and has a future."
"The locations were... the citizen's council, the military depot, and the another location; they hadn't told us yet. We had just found out the targets the day the police raided."
The interrogator grunted at the good police work. "So, they were in touch with you the day of the fight?"
"Yes."
The interrogator stepped towards the door and slammed his fist on it, picking up the little girl. "Get me a medic, ASAP!" he shouted. He turned back to Talara, "I can give your sister a life, Ashok, but I can't give you yours."
"I know," he sobbed.