The Interrogation

By Beverly Greene

NOTE: This story is protected by international copyright laws and may NOT be reproduced in any form without the author's expressed written permission.

The sound reverberated throughout the room, bringing me back once more to my surroundings, temporarily rescuing me from my certain death in the ever smaller room in my mind. My body jerked alive and with it came the screaming pain. My legs woke from their peaceful slumber to object to the lack of movement. The ropes pulled even tighter, biting at my flesh so hard that I could swear that my limbs had been given voices, voices which were bouncing around in my head with such intensity that they seemed to mask even my fear of what the next move of the strange figure who had just slammed her hand down upon the table in front of me would be.

"You know why you are here, don't you?"

I was actually calmed somewhat, somehow by hearing her voice. Demanding, impersonal, even accusatory, it was human and I was not alone and for one split second, that was enough to slow my pounding heart, to ease the pain in my body, to quiet the sounds in my head. But, only for a second.

"No! I don't know why I'm here! I've done nothing wrong!"

I listened to my own words as they formed on my tongue and were released by my lips and even I could tell that I was frightened. I had hoped to return the unspoken accusation, the harshness of her voice, but even I in my current state could hear that my voice had instead been shaky, even pleading. She knew that I was scared as hell. And I knew she knew.

She knew that I had reached my breaking point. She knew that I was completely at her mercy. She knew that whatever it was that she hoped to get from me she could have handed to her on a proverbial platter and she knew that there wasn't a damn thing that I could do about it. She knew that fear had overtaken me, leaving me a sobbing child-woman pleading for my life, for my sanity. She knew. And I knew she knew.

I sat in complete silence, unsure if even my heart continued to beat in my chest or if I was breathing. I was listening with every atom in my body, listening for some kind of clarification, some form of resolution, some...something...anything.

"You know why you are here, don't you?"

The same question, the same voice, the same tone. Still, I continued to listen, hoping against all hope that this time, some answer would come, some other bit of information that might help me figure out what I was supposed to say or do to put an end to this ordeal. I listened and nothing came.

Finally, after what seemed like a million years of terrifying silence, I found my voice again.

"I.......I....I don't know."

My voice was weak and meek and I wondered at first if they had even heard me at all. When they both moved in closer, as if for the kill, I realized that they had heard me but that my response had not been the one that they were hoping for.

"Do you know who Jason McEnroy is?"

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