30

Warning: This story contains violence. If you don't like violence, then don't read it.

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The heavy metal door creaked open, having not been tended to or even oiled in years. A tall man around his fifties with grey, tired eyes walked in. He wore an army uniform with stars that clearly marked him as a colonel. His hair was already showing signs of grey through his light brown hair.
He looked at the man whose hands were tied behind his back, and the man was staring right back at him with all the contempt he could manage in his eyes. The man assumed that it was difficult to tell the original colour of his own hair, as it was likely caked with dirt and grease both from his living conditions from the past month and lack of bathing. What he was wearing before was next to impossible to tell as now it appeared to be more like rags. He was relatively young,  in his twenties, though he suspected that he appeared much older by now. The colonel sighed.
"Are you ready to talk?" He asked the young man in a voice that held an undertone of sadness, which differed from how he had talked to the man only a month before. The young man assumed it to be some kind of manipulation to get him to talk. He gave his answer by spitting at the colonel's face. The colonel sighed, and wiped his face.
"Please." He tried again.
"Never." Was the response.
The colonel shook his head. "I tried. I really did." He muttered as though he was asking for forgiveness from some unseen entity. The young man again assumed that he was either saying a prayer or trying to scare him, although he refused to let it get to him. The colonel walked back over to the door and opened it. "You can come in now." In walked a girl, maybe in her late teens. Her hair was charcoal black, and was held back in a neat ponytail. She was wearing a dark green, baggy suit that was likely intended to keep her clothes from getting stained, and black boots. Her gaze held no emotion and immediately landed on the young man's face. Her eyes never shifted from his face as she walked into the room. Her blank expression started to creep him out, though he couldn't find a reason as to why. He shook off the feeling and focused on being angry.
"Who're you?" He asked in an angry tone. The girl did not reply, simply stared at his face, taking in every detail.
"Are you sure you don't want to talk?" The colonel asked, pleading hidden in his voice. The young man was almost disgusted. Did they really think he would give in that easily?
"I said I'm not going to talk!" He shouted back angrily. The colonel shook his head and slowly walked to the door. He stopped after he opened the door and looked back at the poor man's face one last time, directly in his eyes, as if it was another chance to change his mind. The young man glared back. The colonel walked out and closed the door. The girl silently nodded, and her gaze shifted to stare straight at his left Achilles tendon. She pulled a sharp knife out of her boot, made the blade pop up, and then knelt down while positioning the knife right behind the tendon of his left bare foot. She stared at the tendon the entire time.
She paused, and uttered the words, "One last chance." These were the first words she had said since she came in. He was confused. Why were they giving him so many chances?
He furrowed his eyebrows. "No."
She nodded.
In one swift movement she cut his Achilles tendon. The tendon put up very little resistance and the knife had no trouble slicing through. He screamed in pain, not expecting it to hurt that much. She moved to the same tendon on the right foot. She counted, almost inaudible, One... Two... Three... all the way up to thirty. The entire time never looking away from that spot. Once she reached thirty, she sliced that tendon in the same way. He screamed again, not able to hold it back. He thought he would be prepared for that time, but he was wrong. The pain was almost unbearable, but he still didn't give in. "I-is that a-all you got?" He choked out.
She ignored him and ripped the remainder of his shirt to expose his chest, now looking at the exact center of it. She counted again, only this time slightly louder. One... Two... Three... When she reached thirty she skinned a large part of his chest, and let the piece of flesh fall to the filthy floor. He screamed again. They never said anything about skinning when they taught him. She looked directly at the area his stomach would be and started counting, a little louder than before and faster in tempo. At thirty she skinned his stomach. This time tears slid down his face. That was one of the most sensitive spots on the body. They had kicked him in the stomach before to prepare him, but that did nothing to help him get through the pain he was now going through.
She then reached up and held his chin in her hand and brought their faces a little closer together while holding his head in place. She looked directly at his left eye, and he knew what she was going to do. She started counting. One... Two... Three...
His blood had formed pools around his feet and stained whatever clothes he had on. He knew that he had been taught not to scream. Not to give in and talk. He had been trained for so much, but not this. No, they trained him for torture methods that restrict themselves. Waterboarding, beatings, and so many others. Yet what he was going through now was something that didn't know restrictions. The second he saw her hazel eyes, he knew he was dealing with a person that had the mindset of many people throughout history that used methods many today would mark as barbaric. A person that knew exactly what hurt the most, but wouldn't kill. Knew exactly how much the human body could go through before dying. No. This was no person. There was no way this thing could be a human being. Whatever it was, it wasn't going to stop. Fear had finally found its way in. It was time to give up.
Before she could reach the number ten he shouted, "ALRIGHT!" She stopped counting. "I'LL TELL YOU ANYTHING! JUST PLEASE STOP!" She nodded and let go of his chin, stepped back, held the knife out to her side, and dropped it onto the floor. It made a loud Clatter and she continued to look at his left eye. Then, she turned around, and walked to the door. He could almost see her counting in her steps even though she said nothing. He shivered slightly. She opened the door and simply nodded to the colonel standing outside. He sighed. He had seen this far too many times. He knew exactly how much damage had been done by how much time had passed. He walked into the room, and the girl stayed just outside the doorway. He could feel her stare at his left eye.
"You're ready to talk." The colonel said, not as a question. There was no doubt in the young man's mind of what would happen if he said no.
"Yes!" He replied, trying to make sure she didn't come back in.
"Alright then."