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I start to speak, thinking about the memories made in the barracks. I lived there for most of my life. I never really had friends, except for Clara. She always had my back.
“They are my friends,” I say.
"You don't have friends anymore," he says. "You've never had friends, and neither have I."
"You know nothing about me," I snap. "You're an ogre. You'll get caught, eventually. They'll cut off your balls and hang you."
He pushes his body against mine, slamming my back against the concrete wall. He forces one hand around my throat. The other fits between my legs.
His stare is complex. Endless. His eyes seem to hold the heaviest emotions possible, but he keeps it all buried deep inside.
"Doesn't matter who or what I am," he growls. "The fact is you're dying, and the Syndicate will want me dead for taking you. You need me to protect you. If you act up, I'll put this cunt to good use. Do you understand me?"
I spit directly into his face. "I'd like to see you try."
My saliva oozes down his nose and chin. He could kill me if he wanted to. He could crush me like a bug.
His breathing intensifies. His hands close around my wind-pipe, and his fingers brush through my thick pubic mound.
His eyes drop. I can feel something harden in the center of his pants.
"I can smell the scent of your pussy. I'd love to fill your belly with my seed," he moans.
I shut my mouth.
He backs away and nods. "I know everything about you," he says. "Anna Longdale. Age, 23. Five foot, six inches. By your squad's standards, that's a little short, but it's not out of the ordinary."
"Yes," I whisper.
He lowers the tablet. "Yes, what?"
"I... don't want to talk about any of this," I say.
"Don't worry. Just a few more questions until all of this is over," he says. "Are you fertile? Don’t lie to me."
I lower onto the bed, carefully holding the IV catheter level so it doesn't catch and pull the needle out. The pain is suddenly throbbing.
"As far as I know," I mutter.
"Boyfriend? Doesn't list you with any husband or mate," he says.
"Where are you getting this information from?" I ask.
"I'll check the box for none of the above. Let's move forward. There's one last thing I'd like to check out," he says.
My eyes water. "Will it hurt?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "No. Open that mouth again," he says. "Stick your tongue out this time."
I close my eyes and pretend I'm at the physician's office. This is just a normal checkup. "Ahh."
He slides a finger over my tongue, slowly moving it toward the back of my throat. I hold still and breathe carefully from my nose. He places a second finger inside and moans with approval.
"Hm. No gag reflex," he whispers. "That's a good girl. Keep that jaw open for me."
A third finger drapes inside. A fourth finger makes his entire hand inside my mouth.
He rolls the fingers into my throat, controlling my jaw in the process.
