Barbed Lives ☑️

11. Stoneheart

"Are you thinking to back out?"
Major Watson asked me.

"Negative, sir."
Hell yes! In my mind, I back out every 6 hours only to come back and get myself screwed all over again.

The exhaustion must have been clear on my face. Because he spoke in the same straight tone.
"If you are planning, then do it within next two days. This coming Sunday you're having an interrogation session. And you might regret not listening to me."

Interrogation session?
I've hardly survived two weeks here, and they're already pulling me into interrogation?

Though I have heard very less stories of this session, but all I know is that they break a man once he enters the hall. And being a Class-I agent, it is expected from you to dig out all the information you can from your enemy whom you're interrogating. So for that, you need to be on the receiving end of it to understand how much pain brings out how much information.

I felt a chill imagining that.
Who will interrogate me?
Anyone but Neil. That fucker is a mind reader.

"I will stay, sir."
I say in a quivering voice and he didn't miss it. He laughed.

"You are scared. Good. Because if I were you, I'd run away after hearing God knows how many Agents are going to screw me from top and bottom in a closed hall, that too within two weeks of my trial period. It's bad, son. Take my advise and sign the deal off before you get scarred for life."

That really fucking helped!

He is just playing with my mind and instilling fear, James, don't listen to him. Beta had told me about everyone trying to plant fear in my mind. I won't give in.

"I'll stay, sir."
I repeated firmly this time. And he looked at me not expecting this response.

"Your wish newbie."
He said and left.
I haaaaate this word!

Cursing him silently, I got back to unloading sacs of vegetables for mess.
Yes he likes to make me feel miserable by making me do works of a labourer, sweeper, sewage cleaner etc etc.

Each CTO here has a different approach towards me.
Some try to Fuck my mind - yes, Neil is on top. Some break my body through frank disastrous workouts - so much so that even taking a breath hurts. Some make me feel terrible by making me do petty jobs. Some try to be frank and fake friendly behavior to know my thoughts. Some try to make me hell drunk and then the rest try to Fuck my mind and body and self-esteem all at once.

The last situation is the most difficult to handle. The amount of alcohol I was made to drink on day 10 of my trial here, exceeds my whole lifetime of drinking till that date.
And I freaking passed out for heaven's sake!

One would say that I should not be allowed to drink - and that I'm breaking rules. But guess what - there are no rules applicable for me. If my fucker I/C wishes, anything can be done to me anytime, anywhere.
Also, if commander had caught me drunk talking, I bet my ass Norman would have washed his hands off. There's absolutely nothing I can do to keep myself safe except follow orders and pray.

Well I can't really blame anyone but me. I myself signed on that paper which meant-

'I, in my full senses, agree to undergo all kinds of examination and evaluation found necessary to pass the standards to appear for Class-I agent training tests. The minimum tenure of this trial will be 50 days. During this interval, if I wish to discontinue, I will inform the necessary authorities who shall decide whether I should be called fit or unfit based on my performance till the date of leaving. I shall abide by all rules and follow every command given to me by the Commander of CCTC and I shall not report against any behaviour or act done against me as a part of my trial. The only freedom that is granted to me is to sign my trial off.'