Surely I must be better by now. Ten hours since the last time a fist had met the side of my face. Cuffs were usually rusty here, financing the decorum of the detention center was of little interest to the men that managed this place. For three months my routine had been similar. Ice cold water pour from head to toe, a screaming man, his fingers grinding into my skull as I was dragged by my hair into a room filled with the smoke of cheap cigarettes. The sickly plumes infected the wounds instantaneously.
From the far side of the plane I have never expected my fate to be so violent, so honestly deserved. At first I was disgusted with my treatment, the severity with which I was captured. Walking down the street, a bag of rambutan tucked in a plastic bag, the sugars dripping onto the uneven ground. A mean tire screech and hands from all directions.
When they sat me in the chair that I am in right now, I scoured my mind, searching for memories of guilt. At first I had found nothing. The first month I wanted to yelp, to find the people who would miss me, the media making a campaign for my release, my death finding justice in the people that had confused me for someone else. I was a scapegoat, I loved this place, nothing would ever be done from my hands to cause any harm.
Who is your son? Who is your daughter? Imagine if they were in this place, then how hard would you hit me? If I was your wife, would you deprive me of food?
It is late now, and I need to share my secrets. I ask them to tell me what they want me to say, they tell me that I need to remember a number. One that I would never know that I knew. They told me to think of certain places, a snowy walk after a flight was cancelled. Running away from old men in Morocco. The numbers would come back to me they said, all this time I had been carrying a code, one that made me guilty, the walking weapon.
A tooth drops off the tip of my tongue and a series of numbers scatter onto the floor. When the lips seal, a dark voice traveling on a twisp of carbon tells me, surely you must be hungry, as you are all the same. An appetite is an appetite. A growling stomach must first be satisfied before you can be a human. Right now you are anything but human. You are bored, apathetic and trying to conceal the assortment of delectable lies you would have told us.
So eat. Consume and enjoy.
From the far side of the plane I have never expected my fate to be so violent, so honestly deserved. At first I was disgusted with my treatment, the severity with which I was captured. Walking down the street, a bag of rambutan tucked in a plastic bag, the sugars dripping onto the uneven ground. A mean tire screech and hands from all directions.
When they sat me in the chair that I am in right now, I scoured my mind, searching for memories of guilt. At first I had found nothing. The first month I wanted to yelp, to find the people who would miss me, the media making a campaign for my release, my death finding justice in the people that had confused me for someone else. I was a scapegoat, I loved this place, nothing would ever be done from my hands to cause any harm.
Who is your son? Who is your daughter? Imagine if they were in this place, then how hard would you hit me? If I was your wife, would you deprive me of food?
It is late now, and I need to share my secrets. I ask them to tell me what they want me to say, they tell me that I need to remember a number. One that I would never know that I knew. They told me to think of certain places, a snowy walk after a flight was cancelled. Running away from old men in Morocco. The numbers would come back to me they said, all this time I had been carrying a code, one that made me guilty, the walking weapon.
A tooth drops off the tip of my tongue and a series of numbers scatter onto the floor. When the lips seal, a dark voice traveling on a twisp of carbon tells me, surely you must be hungry, as you are all the same. An appetite is an appetite. A growling stomach must first be satisfied before you can be a human. Right now you are anything but human. You are bored, apathetic and trying to conceal the assortment of delectable lies you would have told us.
So eat. Consume and enjoy.
