“And yet, here you are! Dancing around on stage with your clothes off, wagging your ass for a bunch of known criminals just… like… you.” His face moved mere centimeters away from hers, staring into her soul before continuing, “Are you truly a criminal, Lena?”
“No… n-no, Sir.”
“Are you absolutely sure, Lena?”
“No… I… no Sir.”
“This is the last time I shall ask, Lena. Tell me, are you a criminal?”
Lena thought this through. He obviously wanted her to say she was, but if she did, would she spend the rest of her life in prison? Would he torture her? Would she ever see her friends again? And yet, if she didn’t say she was, then what? Would he do worse to her? Would she spend the rest of her life in prison until she finally admitted to it, regardless of the truth?
“No, Sir, I swear I am no criminal!” she said, hoping to God she somehow convinced him of the truth of it. She saw a brief twitch in his face, like a vein was about to burst. He looked angrier than she had ever seen another human being look. She truly expected him to punch her or worse.
“Tell me, Lena…” he began, flicking flecks of spittle on her cheeks and in her eyes, “Is it legal for you to smoke?”
“No, Sir.” Lena began, and her heart sank.
“Why is it not legal for you to smoke, Lena?”
“Because…” the words stung even though she had already said it, “…because I am a child, Sir.”
He poked her in the chest again, so hard that she stumbled back against the wall. She felt like falling and crumpling up into a ball right then. Yet she endeavored to find a median between standing her ground and not upsetting the man any more than he already was. It appeared, however, that she wouldn’t have the time to choose where that line was, or if it even existed.
The man grabbed Lena’s arm roughly, squeezing the artery right below her armpit. Weakness seized her instantly as pain flared. He half-led, half-dragged her over to where the bright white wall was and stood her next to the chair, before promptly kicking it over.
“This is the wall for liars, Lena,” the man menaced at her, saying her name in a hate-filled tone. “Stare at the lying wall, Lena. Stare at it… do not close your eyes, Lena! Do not even blink, Lena! If you blink, there will be consequences, Lena!”
She thought it was a simple, silly thing he had asked her to do—for the first thirty seconds, that is. But as the seconds ticked on, the white wall began to hurt her eyes. It was so bright—so bright, in fact, that her eyes began to water. She blinked on instinct, both to knock a few of the excess tears lose and to apply the teardrops to where they actually needed to be on the rest of her precious eyeballs.
‘Whack!’
A bright flash of pain spread across the back of Lena’s thighs, right below her buttocks. It was as if someone had cut her with a red-hot knife, piercing through clothing and skin alike. She instantly recoiled, grabbing her poor legs and prancing stupidly in place. Seconds later the welt became a glow, spreading into a five-alarm fire across her lower extremities.
“Stare at the wall!” the man screamed at her. “Do not look away! Do not blink! Do not blink!”
Lena’s eyes began to water once again, but for a completely different reason this time. A headache was beginning to spread from the sides of her temples down to her lower jaw. She squeezed her jaw so tightly that she wondered if she would crush a tooth. As she stared at the bright wall, seconds became minutes. Her eyes blurred and burned, as her tears were replaced by the unbearable dryness of her deprived sockets. “Oh god… how could it possibly get worse than this?!” she screamed inside her aching skull.
A few minutes of silence and a few minutes of staring finally saw the pain in her legs subside to a dull echo. Then, after a few more minutes, Lena heard the familiar sound of a match striking rough paper, accompanied by the faint yet comforting sound of paper burning away. “My, that’s wonderful…” the man spoke behind her as a familiar smell crept into her nose. This symphony of smell married sweetly with a rush of smoke that made her eyes burn all the worse.
“You know, Lena, nothing really satisfies like a cigarette does.” he said, his tone dripping with self-indulgence. “In stressful times like these, when I am trapped inside the walls of this building, with so much work ahead of me, it helps to take a few puffs. It really helps to take the edge off.”
Almost instantly, Lena’s skin began to itch, as the blood inside her veins began to throb a desperate need for the precious nicotine—overwhelming her senses. She hadn’t even thought about cigarettes once since entering this terrible place—but now that she had been reminded of the smell, a cigarette was the only thing she wanted in the whole world. The minutes ticked on, her eyes continued to burn, and the itch in her blood became a tickle. Then the tickle became rough sandpaper scraping against every part of her. God… she felt thirsty for a cigarette. She literally felt thirsty… she hadn’t had a smoke in so long; but now all she could think about was culling the pins and needles in her veins and satisfying this desperate need that was begging for relief.
“Would you like a cigarette?” the man spoke sweetly, after lighting a second one.
This was a trick. She didn’t know much about this terrible man standing behind her, but she knew that much. She knew this was a trick—it had to be. And yet, she wanted one so bad… it had to be worth the risk. After all, he was asking which meant he was offering. So, technically answering for one was the correct course of action. Yes, yes… of course this was the correct thing to do—trying to satiate those awful pins and needles was only a secondary concern. She congratulated herself on making the right choice and decided to agree. “Oh god, I can almost taste it.” she winced.
“Y-yes… yes, Sir.”
“Mind your manners, Lena,” the man spoke, in an almost fatherly tone. “If you want something, you need to ask politely for it.”
“Sir…” Lena began weakly, “May I please have a cigarette, Sir?”
“Of course, Lena! I would love to share a cigarette with you!”
With this, he promptly lit a cigarette, and placed the business end in her mouth. Almost instantly, the rush of sweet forgiveness and mercy from the great gods above overwhelmed her. Her head began to spin, and her heart began to race as she slowly drew on the sweetest, most deliciously satisfying drag of her life. “God, this is sooo good…” she thought to herself, completely ignoring the smoke wafting into her eyes. It hurt—terribly even—but god, it was worth every second.
“Do me a favor, Lena. Raise your arms.” the man spoke in the same fatherly tone. She did, but he quickly corrected her, “No, no… raise them to your sides, right about shoulder-height. Yes… that’s it. Really get a good stretch!”
After Lena stretched her arms out, the man reached around her and yanked the cigarette out of her mouth, promptly replacing it in the fingers of one of her outstretched arms.
“What was I thinking, Lena?” the man said in a tone of mock embarrassment. “You are a child! You are too young for cigarettes! But lucky for me, you are not too young to hold my cigarettes for me.” With this, the man yanked the cigarette out of her fingers, took a long, nearly pornographic drag on it, and then placed it back in her fingers. “Keep your arms up, young Lena! If you lower them, even an inch, I shall have to be cross with you!”