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My arm was still hurting from the injury to my arm when I started looking around the room. It seemed that someone carefully dressed my wounds while I was unconscious. My surroundings were very gloomy grey walls, a metal frame with a mattress and green wooly sheets with a rag stuffed with other rags for a pillow, and a dim light bulb. I couldn’t tell what time it was since there were no windows. I just sat there on the so called bed wondering what had just happened, when all of the sudden I heard footsteps creeping ever closer. They stopped right outside the door as it swung open, I looked up in horror as two Alterian guerreros fully armed from tooth to toe stepped into the room. “Don’t be alarmed” said a voice from behind them and I saw that it was coming from a short rather plump man in military uniform. “We are not here to harm you, I am Lieutenant Marcos Arran head of the Alta Tierra P.O.W. camp and we are here to question you. First off what is your name?” My name, why should I give them my name after what they’ve done to me after all the pain they’ve bestowed upon me I will not give them the pleasure of my cooperation. I kept silent and backed away. “Hmmm, I see you are a silent type. Well its o.k. over the next few days you will be seeing me again and again until you get over your shyness, no need to rush things.” He started walking to the door as the soldiers exited when he suddenly turned around and said, “oh! I almost forgot, until you start cooperating with us you will receive no food or water.” With a smile and a chuckle he left the room. I spent a few hours laying there in the makeshift bed, wondering what will become of me of where my father and how I was going to explain the death of mother, Katrina my sister, and Jose my brother to him. Or if I would ever see him again, fear is all that ran through my mind. At least I still have my log that I keep with me that keeps me from going suicidal. I am going to sleep I have grown tired of writing the umbra of my soul.
Log out.