Chapter 2

[Baek]

The seconds turned to minutes and then to hours and then to days, until eventually I lost track of time itself. Food came in through a hatch underneath the door and after a certain time so did the vents above my head. Then I would find myself sitting upright with the pillow cushioned in my lap. I used this as a means to track how long I was there. Later I would wonder why it took me so long to break from the system. And why no one else did either.

But for then I stayed silent, reciting my list, the one thing I knew they couldn’t take from me.

~ I love strawberries but hate cucumbers. I have no family. I’m not being protected, I’ve been trapped.

And last week I kissed a man with purple hair. ~

I never talked or screamed. Something told me that no one was coming for me and I knew it would only make things worse to call for them. I wouldn’t – no – I couldn’t let them know they won. So I waited. And whilst waiting I did the only thing I could do, which was to think.

To get information I needed an answer from them. Thus began my first question: What would happen when I broke the rules?

The first few times I stopped eating the routine continued. But after the seventh the gas terminated and in its place the door opened. Two men in two pairing black outfits simultaneously marched inside, picked me off the floor and pinned me to the wall. I was too weak to fight back so when they forced open my mouth I meekly chewed and swallowed, feeling the gruel crawl its way down my throat and stretch out my empty pit of a stomach. Once I had finished the bowl, they dropped me to the floor and one guarded the door whilst the other replaced my pillow. I knew they had put something in my food because I couldn’t manage the effort to lift my head from off the wall, but still I attempted to talk to them. Every word tearing and scraping at my lungs. In the end all I accomplished was a hoarse whisper. But it was enough to be heard. The man exchanging the pillows turned, his dull features pulling together a confused expression before walking towards me. I returned his expression with one of bemusement and when he got close enough for me to repeat my words I twisted my face till it perfectly aligned with his. Then I brought up whatever muck I could that was still in my throat and spat in his face.

I didn’t mind the beating that followed, partially because of my lack of consciousness and partially because of the answer to one of many of my questions. They need me alive. They don’t care about my state but they need me alive.