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I rub my hand up and down my arm, feelings the cuts and scars there. A lot of them have come from me catching myself on shards and rocks in here. Some were attained as the men brought me to this prison. I would’ve got more if I fought it, but I was too much in shock to battle them at all. I pathetically let them take me.
Seeing Christopher and the others die like that, I haven’t ever had an experience like that before and I hope I never do again. The blood and gore… I was so horrible. How can these people commit atrocities like this? I don’t understand these men, they’ve become like savage animals with no regard for human life. I’ve heard of it, it isn’t unknown, but seeing it is something else entirely. I want to go back in time and to tell Oliver to get lost. I knew this idea wasn’t a great one. Why did I get sucked in to what he wanted me to do? It isn’t fair. He’s the one at home in his cushy job, loving his life, and we’re the ones dead and trapped. He should be here.
I ball my fists up angrily by my side as I think about that. Anger is another place I keep going to. It’s an unhealthy emotion, but with my dry throat, my torn-up clothes, my ripped skin, and the emotional turmoil I’m going through, I can’t seem to help it. The negative emotions drive me. They keep me going.
I stiffen as I hear voices outside my cell. My entire body freezes while I wait to see if something is going to happen. Every moment of every day I expect them to come in with something to decapitate me. Fucking hell, who would have ever thought that I was in a position where my head is going to be sliced from my shoulders? I try to think of it in a detached way so it doesn’t consume me, but it’s hard. I keep imagining the agony in my neck. It’s got to hurt, there’s no way it won’t destroy me. It’s probably the worst way to go.
My ten-day deadline might be due soon too, I have no idea. It could even be today. Time blurs in here and I have nowhere near enough sleep to be sure. I slide my eyes closed and wonder what it’ll be like if this is it.
The cell door swings open and a dark shadow looms on the other side of the door. I scoot backwards like a scared little mouse trying to protect myself from the bird of prey, but of course, it’s pointless. There’s nowhere to go. Almost as an instinctive reaction, I open my mouth to say something, but my mouth is too dry. It’s been too long since any liquid has slid down my throat. As the guy moves closer to me I wonder if it matters.
He mutters something to me as he grabs me and drags me upright. My top rips just a little bit more, but that’s the least of my worries. My heart thumps painfully, my tummy aches with nerves, my lungs are empty.
This is it, I try to tell myself so I can get adjusted. No more worrying. It’s happening right now. I’m going to die. I tip my head upwards and think only of Jordan now. I love you, Jordan, I miss you so much.
I wish I could be granted the time to say goodbye to him, but time is gone. I have no more of it.
I’m taken into a room where I’m pushed to my knees once more. Tears fly down my cheeks, I give up trying to keep my emotion locked away when it’s all over anyway. I’ve already spotted the camera, I saw the familiar glow of it the moment I stepped into the room, which means my death will be publicized. I’ll become more famous than I’ve ever been before. The whole country will know my name, maybe even the world…
Unless this video is for nothing and it’ll join a whole load of other meaningless videos which go nowhere. I suppose that could be just as possible. Who knows what’s going on with these people. I don’t even want to begin to understand. I’m done, I don’t even want to think anymore. If I’m going to die I want it to just be.
I get a newspaper stuffed into my hands and another script in barely legible writing. The tears stream so fast down my face it blocks my vision. I can hardly read the words, but I suppose I’ll have to. My final speech. Whether someone sees it or not, it’ll be the last words ever spoken by me and it isn’t even my own words. I don’t even get to choose what I say. It really isn’t fair. That has to be the largest indignity of all.
I hear a gruff grunt and the man makes a signal with his hand which I suppose means it’s go time. No time to think it through, no time to get worried, we’re just going for it. It’s happening.
“My name is Veronica Best,” I rasp. “And six days ago,” Six days? Maybe I still have time after all. I really shouldn’t be so excited about four extra days in hell but I can’t help it. “I was captured while reporting in Afghanistan and now I’m… I’m a prisoner. If one million dollars isn’t paid in four days, I will… die.”
This is hopeless, absolutely ridiculous. It isn’t going to happen. What I should be doing is begging Jordan to come and see me one last time. But I suppose I don’t want him here near these people either.
“I will be decapitated as a symbol of…” Shit, I can hardly read the words. I squint my eyes and look so hard my eyes nearly pop out of my head. I have to improvise a little bit because it doesn’t make much sense. I think it’s been badly translated in places. “Of everything that is wrong with the Western world.”
I glance up once the words are spoken and stare into the camera lens imagining that I’m looking at Jordan for the final time. Maybe he’ll get that I’m trying to tell him go
odbye with my eyes. If he sees it.
Once the video is done I’m rewarded with a glass of dirty water which I suck down like it’s a damn oasis rather than something which will probably make me ill. It feels so terrible, yet incredible at the same time. It’s my life line which I suppose I’ll need if I’m going to make it through the next four days.
Who knows, I think helplessly to myself as I’m dragged back into the prison cell that I’ve only just left. Maybe some miracle will happen and I’ll be freed just in time. I don’t want to get my hopes up but I need something to rely on, something to day dream about to get me through this truly horrific time.
***
Time passes. I don’t know how much, it could be days, it could only be hours, but I feel myself growing delirious with hope as it ticks by. The idea which was only a dream not so long ago has become a solid wish that I can’t let go of. I become stupidly convinced that someone is coming to save me and I’ll be back home before long. I even think about what I’m going to say when I speak to Jordan again.
“I’m sorry,” I imagine myself saying into his chest as he holds me tight into his chest. “I will always listen to you in the future. I know now that you’re right. I should have seen that sooner…”
He’ll forgive me as well, I’m sure of it. It won’t matter to him that he can say ‘I told you so’. He won’t want to. He’s such a good man that he’ll be too concerned about making me heal. I will love him even more for that. And if I have to give up my career afterwards to keep him in my life then I will. After all, my job hasn’t come to my rescue. I’ve always needed it more than it’s needed me, and I don’t like being disposable.
In my career, I only mean a small part. To him, I’ve always meant everything.
We’ll make it work as well, because the both of us will stop heading into danger. We’ll make some serious changes so that we can actually have a life together. I know Jordan won’t mind after this. Something so dramatic has to be life changing, otherwise what’s the point?
Now, I just need my rescue to come so I can finally make that dream come true.
22
Jordan
“Where are they?” I yell to the intelligence officer. “I already know that you can pinpoint the location where this video was shot, so just tell me where it is already. I don’t want to have to threaten you.”
