Prologue: The Present
Prologue: The PresentI stand in a room lit by one naked bulb, my arms chained above my head. The floors and walls are gray, and there are bloodstains on the floor.
I am alone.
One wall is hung with gruesome weapons, including knives of all shapes and sizes. Some objects are so small, and the room so dim, that I can’t see what they are.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here. My arms burn, my legs shake, but I can’t rest because I’m chained. I’m too far from the wall to get any support. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve had anything to eat or drink. My head feels like it’s splitting in half, and my tongue is dry and swollen.
A door opens, and a plain, pale man wearing a suit walks inside. “Good morning, Malaki.”
I glare at my captor. “John Patriot. I know who you are. You tortured my mom and one of my friends. I looked up everything I could about you. How’s your daughter?”
His expression doesn’t change, but he strolls across the room and punches me in the face.
My head jerks back, but I smirk and stand taller. My whole life has trained me for this. He will never break me. He punches and kicks me for an unknown time, my body twisting and turning in agony, arms still bound.
Next, he selects a few instruments of torture from the wall. Over the course of several hours, he puts a small, black rod to my temple and shocks me with it, scrawls curving bloody lines down my arms with a knife, and removes three of my toenails.
Through my sweat, groans, and curses, I notice the pale man’s expression seems to stay the same no matter what. But over time his face reddens, and sweat dots his forehead.
As much as I want to kick him with my bloody feet, I hold back. He’ll kill me if I make a move to retaliate. I know this from my Mama Hally’s accounts, and from my ex-girlfriend Serenity. I don’t know how I got here, but I do know I’m in a Detainment Center run by the self-proclaimed leaders of the US: The Family Protection Movement. They’ve kept my family torn apart for most of my life. Hypocrites and bastards. I know what these tortures are because they were already done to other people who I love. The rod Patriot shocks me with is called The Peacemaker, but he’s not attacking me with it enough to make me completely lose control or black out like I know he could. This asshole is just playing with me right now.
Finally, after the latest series of punches and kicks, he shoves me and I feel my left shoulder dislocate. I hold in my cries somehow, refusing to show this man how much he’s hurting me. He releases my chains and I crumple to the hard, cold ground on my right side. My teeth chatter from the effort to stay calm. Sweat and blood cover me; I can’t even tell the difference between the two. I run my good hand over my head. My blue mohawk is lying flat, but there isn’t much stubble on the rest of my scalp, so I haven’t been here long.
“Do you have anything else to say?” Patriot asks.
“You’ll never get any information from me.” I smirk again, knowing he still hasn’t beaten me.
The man stares coldly. “We do not require information from you.”
Panting, I struggle to lean up against the wall. He allows this.
I squint up at him. “What do you want, then?”
Patriot paces. “To change you.”
I chuckle through my pain. “You’ll have to kill me first.”
“Oh, you won’t do us any good dead. We need you alive. Crippled, maimed, traumatized…but alive.”
I grunt and sit up a little more. The cool wall soothes my back. “Why? I won’t give you any information. I won’t turn in any of my allies. No matter what you do or say.”
“As I’ve said, we don’t need information from you. We have plenty of your other friends in custody to torture.”
Now chills race up and down my body. I don’t break my gaze with the man, refusing to show defeat. He’s probably just lying to mess with my head, anyway. But I don’t know for sure.
“Stand up,” he commands.
Shakily I get to my feet, refusing to make a sound until he pulls my arms above my head and chains me again. I can’t help but groan. My left arm feels like it’s dangling by a skin thread. If I pass out, I don’t know what kind of damage will be inflicted. With every ounce of strength, I rise on my toes to ease the pain. Spots flash before my eyes.
“We only need your cooperation,” he says.
“You…won’t get it.”
“You should consider yourself fortunate. You have been chosen to undergo our newest program.”
I breathe slowly through my nose. Agonizing stabs shoot up my arm and down my spine. It is so hard to focus.
“You’re very important to us, Malaki.”
I grit my teeth. “Why? Because of my mother?”
“No. Because you have been chosen as the new face of The Family Protection Movement. We are going to make you better. We’re going to turn you from Gay to Normal. And we won’t stop until we have succeeded.”
The man spins on his heel and strides out the door, slamming it behind him.
Now I scream.
Part 1: The Past
