A Memory – Torture 101

“Today, we shall learn about extracting useful information. Also known as torture techniques.” That caught my attention. I was the youngest in my class at only twelve-standard years of age – a tool of vengeance. I had earnt the respect of her classmates, all ten years my senior, for being the most ruthless and single-minded in my goals.

“Miss Kielle, come forwards,” the lecturer announced, looking at the display behind his desk. Swallowing in a dry throat I rose, my left hand on the of the blade I wore at my waist at all times. “Now, as you’re the perfect height, I will use you to demonstrate.” I nodded, eyeing the array of shiny tools on the bench beside the tall Amarrian male. His gaze heavy, as he looked at me, indicating to the chair behind him. “Remove your jacket and sit down.”

Slowly, carefully, I started to pull off my jacket, flushing in embarrassment as the tutor shot an appraising look over me, inclining his head respectfully. “Greetings, Miss Kielle, my name is Baelnai Haeg, you know my wife, Morai quite well.” Relaxing a little, still unsure of the aged gentleman but responded in kind, bowing my head, “greetings Senior Haeg, call me Dossie.” His smile was serene as he turned to the rest of the assembled students.

“Today, we will look at application of blades on pressure points. We’re not uncouth primitives so there will be no unfortunate souls joining us to be test subjects, instead, you will be writing notes and then applying the theory in several weeks when you get your practical.”

Four weeks later:

The Deteis female groaned as she came to, her eyes slowly focusing. “Welcome to the land of the living,” a calm, soft voice said, the woman groaned again. “Today, you will meet a good student of mine. Now, be a good girl and tell us what we want to know and we’ll make this quick,” she looked up, her sight becoming more focused, eyes widening in shock. An Amarrian stood behind the trolley in front of her, an arm around my shoulder, as I stood, leaning slightly in to him. “What do we need to learn from her, Senior Haeg?” I asked, glancing at the bound woman then back to checking the neatly arranged scalpels. “From her? Little of consequence, she’s a low-ranking foot pad from Caldari Intelligence.”

I giggled and inclined my head, addressing the captive, “well met stranger, I am Dos Tu Mai Kielle. Today you will learn the true meaning of pain and beg the Gods to put an end to the treatment.” I stepped around the trolley and sat in the woman’s lap. “I don’t care about your name, all I want are a few answers to some simple truths. Do you understand, stranger?” The woman blinked, her throat constricting, “how, how old are you?”

“Thirteen-standard today,” I replied. “Th-thirteen?” She spluttered incredulous, “you’re but a chi-” her words were cut off by a swift elbow in the solar plexus. Gasping, gagging, retching, the Caldari Intel officer was surprised at the force and aim of the blow. “I am thirteen, and by tradition – a woman. Approaching adulthood. I would stay my tongue if I were you.” The aged gentleman chuckled quietly, “she’s one of our most promising students, too.”

“Is this how you lawless scum treat children? You make me sick. If this poor child had been raised by responsible Caldari parents, she wouldn’t be-” a back-handed slap across her face silenced her for a moment, my other hand clenching on the hilt of a short sword at my hip. “Your precious State killed my parents, bitch.” I said, smouldering hatred burning deep within my eyes. “I chose the path I am on for revenge.” The old man cleared his throat, causing me to check my anger. “This bickering will get us nowhere. Now, tell us where the outpost you sent our men to is, or I will be forced to unleash Miss Kielle upon you.”

She made no response, her silence telling us more then words. “Miss Kielle, if you will.”

Humming a merry tune as I began to pull on a pair of gloves, I nodded to Senior Haeg, “music maestro,” my hands slowly indicating the array of scalpels as an upbeat tune started to play through the speakers. “Today, we have a fine selection of precision blades.” I rest my twin swords on a rack under the small, barred window then return to the chair. “Okay, I’ll ask you once before I lay down my intricate tapestry. Where are the fine ladies and gents of the Guristas you so unkindly imprisoned?”

“Carlson, State Intelligence Office. Tango-Foxtrot-One-One-Zero-Two,” came her response.

I sighed and sat on her lap, the back of her chair lowering to a reclined position as I idly sort through the scalpels, holding one in front of her face. “This is a fifteen millimetre, laser edged scalpel,” I hold another in front of her face, “this is another fifteen millimetre scalpel, but the edge was honed by hand.” I lift her ragged shirt sleeve and make a shallow cut with the first scalpel, making her hiss with pain. “Notice how this was a very fine incision, the blade is extremely sharp which means its cuts are extremely fine, this one on the other hand,” I cut her other arm with the hand-sharpened scalpel, causing her to gasp with the pain, “this, is honed by my own hand. And therefore not quite as sharp and causes more pain.” Her cold glare at the back of my head, I smile and step aside as Senior Haeg moved closer, a pair of scissors in his hands. “Now, far be it from me to be impertinent and not respect your privacy, Miss Carlson, but those clothes will get in the way.”

She struggled in the chair as he begun cutting away her clothing…

I left the chamber clutching a severed head in my hands, the intricate patterns of the cuts across her face, eyes frozen in blank terror and pain, I sigh. “Well done, Miss Kielle. Such beauty, such artistry. I’ve never seen such intricacy with a scalpel.”

I look up, numb, still clutching the severed head. “Twelve hours she withheld what we needed to know. Do you want me to get rid of that?” He pointed at the head. I got up slowly and started to leave. “N-no, I, I’m…”

I sat, curled up in the corner of my room, the head of the woman I’d spent so many long hours slowly, painfully torturing mocking me. Her now milky eyes boring in to me as if to say ‘you did this. You murdered me.’ I screamed and fled from my room, sleeping fitfully on the bridge of the Worm-class Frigate that was gifted to me for my turning of age. I am a woman now, that face will not be the only ghost in my dreams by the time I quit this plain.


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