I stared at the musty concrete walls as the dim overhead lamp buzzed relentlessly. I was parched, and my throat was filled with so much dust, I found it hard to breathe. My cheeks were already bruised, and I could feel the the trickle of blood staining my face. A single drop hung from my chin, dangling like the last dewdrop from a leaf, yet I was powerless to shake it. The interrogation had sapped me of my strength, but I was determined not to speak. They would never get it out of me. Then the door burst open and broke my spell of concentration. Bring your best, you can't hurt me anymore. But they did not strike. The taller officer stood before me and dropped my backpack on the cold, stone floor. He gave it a swift kick, and I saw my water bottle roll out of a side pocket. Water! What I wouldn't give for a drink. I could tell that the officer was trying to make eye contact with me, but I would not oblige. Conserve. Every drop of energy must be saved.
He would not play my game, though. Only kept staring. I steeled my resolve and tried to will the officer to action. Hit me, I'm yours. Hit me! Beat me down! I'm at your mercy! But the officer stood silent, and did not move his feet. The longer his silence stretched on, the more I longed for a drink of that sweet water. I have heard that in remote locations, justice can be severe. But I never imagined anything quite like this. He's going to torture me to death. He's going to kill me. Kill me by making me kill myself. I won't let you do it, I won't! I'll jump off a mountain, shoot myself, anything! Just give me a damned drink of water! But the officer waited. It was madness! There have been great torturers of men, methods of driving men to insanity, but none compared with this. I was ruined, ruined, and I cursed the officer to a thousand fiery lashes, but I did it, I did it, and I said it, and I pleaded for mercy.
"I killed the elephant, I killed him! Water!"
Footsteps, and the door echoed shut.
