Just this morning I was sitting in the sun, taking in the soft glow and warm caress. You don't get much of those around here so you better savour it while it lasts. I remember one of the inmates telling me that the world outside isn't as grand as we thought it would be. Life behind the tall cement walls gets to you, makes you want to tear your hair out and stick your eyeballs in the blistering filth.
We all want out.
But none of us get it easy.
So it was just another day, I digress, and we all looked forward to another day closer to when we die in our cell, our rotting flesh sending out an invite to the resident rats. They're good friends of the wardens because they help clean out the place before they drag the bodies out. It's been a good while since they've fed, and you can see it in their eyes; watching every move you make, waiting for the time your face slum lifeless to the floor. They're attracted to death, and they'll soon be all over you.
"Someone's here to see you."
I'm not used to my door opening. Most of the time I squeeze myself into the corner and let the sun touch me. It's all I can do to remind me of the past.
"Ya hear me? Get your ass out!"
They're going to have to drag me out. There's no way I'm giving up my sunshine. Three hours a day, they allow the sun to come through the walls. I'm always there, waiting and taking everything in.
They're going to have to drag me out.
Pain. I'm losing my sunshine. It's dimming, and I'm angry. I try to fight back, but they won't let me. More pain, and blackness. It's like night time, only warmer.
"Ya hear me? Who sent you?"
Water feels good, even if it's thrown to my face with the pail.
I've lost touch with my past. It comes to me in bits and pieces; something that I want to forget but have and will always fail to do. I often wondered where I would be if he didn't come see me that day. He took away the fall walls around me and threw me into a free-for-all fray where no one wins. I didn't want to think about it anymore. Not now, not ever.
How did I get here? Last thing I remembered was a heavy thud and a gun in my face. I was delivering something for my Sergeant down the enemy lines and the motars colored the skies with dust and smoke. It's one thing working for an asshole, and it's another working for an asshole who orders you to get shot at by your own guys.
I'm tied up, wet, and in pain. I'm pissed. And they're going on and on about who sent me here and what have I to do with the supposed attack force entering their land. Fuck yourself silly guys... nothing's coming out of my mouth.
More water, this time from the kettle. These guys should throw something else - it's not easy to get a drink during the war. More explosions from outside probably means they're nervous and out of time. Something's got their balls and I've a feeling it's not their bitches. I'll hold out and they'll have to kill me.
"Tell us, goddammit!"
I remain silent. The explosions outside shakes the room. They sweat more, throw more things at me.
"That's it! If he's not going to tell us, I'll kill him!"
Just a little bit more. Salvation, here I come.