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All's Fair In Love and War, Part 21/ not toomany more

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  • Luvofcourfeyrac@aol.com
    A loud slamming noise roused her from her reveries. Her lip instantly curled in disgust as the rauncy smell met her nostrils. Not exactly the type of wake-up
    Message 1 of 1 , Dec 30, 2000
      A loud slamming noise roused her from her reveries. Her lip
      instantly curled in disgust as the rauncy smell met her nostrils. Not
      exactly the type of wake-up call she'd been hoping for. Running her
      fingers through her thin, matted, greasy hair, she moaned and began
      to roll her neck some, getting all the kinks out of it. She'd fallen
      asleep sitting up again. For the past two months she'd done so,
      feeling somewhat more prepared for surprises that way. Sometimes, she
      just did it to make herself smaller, hoping she would disappear in
      the shadow cast upon the corner where she was, due to the night
      streaming in through the window.
      Yes, there was a window, making her cell a room with a view.
      However, it was anything but pleasant, in more ways than one. First
      of all, the window overlooked the entire camp, with all its dreary
      branches. Long, thin brick buildings were everywhere, with people
      constantly moving in an out of them. Sometimes in, seldom out. She
      used to sit there, when they'd first arrived. She'd been a fool,
      believing then that, just like in the pictures, a handsome soldier
      would appear, an American soldier, and rescue her from this
      nightmare. Believing this wholeheartedly, she'd sat upon the little
      crevice made by the window jutting out slightly, and waited. And
      watched. German soldiers were constantly marching along behind a
      group of cowering, miserable looking bodies. That's all they were,
      bodies. You couldn't call them humans because their souls had been
      pulled from them too long ago.
      The second pleasantry of the window was the fact that it
      brought into the cell another opening for bad air to enter. Stale
      air. Even when there was a slight breeze, there was no relief.
      Instead, the breeze succeeded in bringing with it the smell of all
      the carcasses from the mass graves constantly being dug over the
      hill. It brought with it the suffering, moaning cries of the people
      there with her. Feeling her pain. Knowing every thought going through
      her head, only because they were the same thoughts each and every
      person there were thinking.
      In the evenings, the temperature in the cell dropped at least
      ten degrees. She'd learned this after a week or so, and slept against
      the wall nearest the window, to avoid the draft that wafted in at
      night. There was barely a difference in temperature there, but just
      knowing that it was slightly less cold was a little comfort to her.
      Comfort, at that time, was hard to find. Even thinking about Logan
      and days gone by brought no relief. Instead, they brought bitterness.
      She was angry with it all. Angry with him for not coming...for not
      taking her away from all this. She tried to rationalize...to tell
      herself that he would if he could, but it was no help. Eventually,
      though, when the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into a month,
      she even let go of the bitterness. She realized it wasn't providing
      the comfort she thought it had been. In the end it was doing nothing
      but worsening her already horrid situation.
      Moving to crack her neck, she sighed in annoyance when the
      familiar piece of metal prevented her from doing so. She saw, on the
      brick wall beside her, a tiny light flickering green. She knew it
      meant that her collar was on. It was kept on at all times. It had
      taken her a good week or two to learn that the collar prevented her
      from using her mutant powers. After realizing this, she'd decided it
      was a good item to have, for the Germans anyway. She'd wondered,
      hearing about mutant concentration camps, as to how they kept the
      mutants under control. Now she knew.
      Hanging her feet over the edge of her bed, she gave a short
      push with her arms and jumped to the ground. At least, that was her
      intention. Of course, after days without food, water, and exercise,
      her arms had deteriorated somewhat, leaving her far weaker than when
      she'd first arrived. And so, her attempt to land upright failed, as
      her legs crumpled in response to the weight being put upon them.
      Before she had time to pull herself up off the ground, she
      felt a heavy force push down on the back of her head, causing her
      face to dig further into the dirt ground. When the weight was at last
      removed, she pushed herself up on two wobbly arms and spit out the
      dirt that had gotten past her lips. Wiping some of it off her face,
      she turned to the offender. Had she more strength, she may have
      attacked the man. But, as it were, it would only bring about more
      pain. Lately, she'd learned that the best way to get back at these
      people was to act as though nothing mattered. Take the punches, take
      the insults, remain silent and still. Eventually, they moved on to
      others. They moved onto people who would cower and whimper and
      provide more of a show under their torturing.
      Marie moved to say something, only to be struck rather hard
      across the face. For a moment, a bright light flashed in front of her
      eyes, then turned dangerously dark. She thought, just for a second,
      that she was going to pass out. But then her vision cleared and she
      felt herself being lifted off the ground. The first time they'd done
      this, she'd been terrified and confused. Now, she went passively,
      knowing what they wanted, and preparing to keep it from them.
      Keeping in mind that it was mostly a camp for mutants, she
      was able, fairly quickly, to know what they wanted. They brought her
      into the same small room everyday, and placed her in the same small
      wooden chair. Then, they would surround her, and remove the collar
      from around her neck. The first time this had happened, she thought
      she was being freed.
      Remembering the surge of hope she'd felt that day, Marie dropped her
      head. The pain beating within her chest grew rapidly each day, some
      times to the point of suffocation. The endless taunting was always in
      the back of her mind, telling her that hope was pointless. That the
      people who came before her wouldn't be saved, and neither would she.
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