The door opened and light flooded the room once more. The man with a shaggy beard and a shaved head demanded that Zuri climb up the steps. “She’s unconscious,” I said defiantly.
“Well wake her up,” he said impatiently.
“Because you idiots almost killed her yesterday,” I said, knowing what would come next. A burst of pure, untainted and undirected pain shot through my system, but I stood my ground. It was almost refreshing to feel something other than anger and despair. “Take me instead,” I said, ready for whatever he had in store for me. Another shock was delivered through my system before he angrily slammed the door shut. I cursed, realizing what this meant. He didn’t know what the soldiers and presumably, Dr. Brown had done to Zuri. This meant they probably thought she was capable of handling far more than what she really could. Therefore either they had an awful system of communication, or they genuinely thought Zuri would be able to shake off their methods of interrogation more quickly than she could. I realized that Zuri probably wasn’t the first person to be tortured to the point of near-death, or death, for that matter. I began to wonder what it was they wanted so badly they would almost kill Zuri over.
I wasn’t given the time to wonder before the door was opened once more and the man with mouse-brown hair threw down a latter, demanding I climb it. Relief flooded through my system as I stepped up to the rusty platform and began to come closer to the man. He threw me into the chair once more as I looked into his eyes with a newfound hatred. He didn’t mention the fact that my high-tech handcuffs were now in front of me and instead asked, “how did you know how to treat her condition?”
I ignored his question and asked my own. “What did you do to her?”