Path to Secrecy

Becoming one of them

Coarse language!

A loud crack startled me , the sound of metal being forcefully knocked against one another.

The door to my chambered barrack swung upon with force as I craned my neck to observe the clatter of noise. I gasped as the morning sun rays blinded my pupils. Shielding myself with my battered and bruised arms, I slowly dropped them to my lap, adjusting to the brightness while regarding no presence in the door way.

Confused, I cautiously sat up, folding my legs before tilting my head and waiting for an appearance. I thought up of a shady vibe, hoping there weren't tricks up the Commander's sleeve at the crack of dawn. Either way, I supposed to learn.

My dry throat churned with the symptoms of a slight cold. I thought back to laying unconscious with my hair wet and cursed. Just as I accepted the calm demeanour within myself, a large figure stood at the doorway, a permanent sneer on his lips and a gruff exhale, one look at my appearance. Staring at him without a sign of emotion, I observed him as he stepped into the barrack, this time leaving the door wide open. He stopped in his stroll, glaring at me as I blankly stared away. "Is this how you respond to the presence of a Commander? STAND!"

"Sir yes Sir!" I stood onto my feet, my arms posed in a salute gesture. At this the Commander stood still, his bottom lip slightly parting from the top while a confused glint embraced his pupils. I ignored the sting and constriction of the sore skin around the partial healing of my grazes on elbow and knee. Recovering quickly, Knut strolled towards me, his boots creaking against the flimsy floorboard purposely designed for discomfort. He sneered in my face, grunting a kind of unappreciated sound. I zoned my focus on a crack in the wall, a spot where some of the moonlight shown through last night.

"Drop down. Give me fifteen."

I immediately dropped my salute, dropping down onto my arms, while kicking my legs back in a push-up position. I waited a couple seconds, realising the voice of a countdown was to be called within my own head. I pushed down and back up, my arms slower than usual from the absence of personal morning training. In fact, I was becoming lazier day by day. It wasn't a habit, I was positive on making sure of that.

I exhaled, almost aligning myself perfectly flat against the ground before lifting my spirits back, as though I was being watched by the people who had high hopes for me to succeed one day. I was in the midst of bringing myself up for the fourth push-up when I felt a cold hand on my lower back, grazing and sliding fingertips riding up my shirt and sending shivers through my spinal cord.

I grit my teeth together, pausing in my movements. I compelled a thought out of my head. A thought that was substantially satisfying. An imaginary image of Commander Knut hanging with a loose red tie around his neck, dangling with eyes begging for mercy while on goers walked by without the care of showing pity. Instead I continued on with my punishment, breathing with caution and commitment to allow this phase to be a success in my victory.

With a sports bra the only material covering my upper half of the body, my covered legs wrapped around a wooden pole built in the corner of the barrack. With the countdown in my head, I swung the upper half of my body down to the ground before lifting it back up until I was horizontal, an intense impact crushing the muscles building within my stomach. My toned and slightly muscled appearance brought a gist of motivation pumping through my veins. I punched in the air with both arms before repeating the process almost twenty times. The Commander made rounds, around me. With his hands clutched behind his back, his walk filled with arrogance and his eyes trailing in certain areas out of purpose, he commanded me throughout my punishment. Sweat dripped down the bridge off my nose and back up to the space between my eyebrows throughout the process. My head spun the slightest when I would complete the routine at a pace that my body didn't accept. I groaned during my twenty-seventh attempt, pausing as my hands braced the floorboard above me.