Sitting on a chair, my wrists are strapped to the tabletop in front of me. I ignore the pen laying on a piece of paper next to my hand. I ignore the plate of food placed on the table a few centimetres out of reach.

The short man, who the other Officials call Official Jeremiah, is sat opposite me. Seven large gold circles marked into the side of his face shimmer under the bright light. I've never seen someone with seven before. He must be incredibly important and devoted to The State to be awarded such an honour. This knowledge doesn't fill me with hope.

Jeremiah tightly grips a gun in his right hand. Thanks to me, he has a bandage wrapped around his left. My aim was a bit off when I shot him. I was trying to hit him in the head.

"Write down your account of the events which led you here and everything you know about the resistance. Then you can eat," Jeremiah says calmly for the fifth time. He's getting impatient. His finger keeps fidgeting on the trigger of the gun and I'm wondering if he'll simply get bored of my silent treatment and put a bullet in my brain.

I don't respond, instead, I gaze at the room I've been trapped in for who knows how long. White tiles cover the floors and walls. I guess it makes it easier to clean the blood off. There's a mirror on one wall and a tap on the opposite side of the room which is connected to a long hose leading to a tub full of dirty water. I doubt it's ever been used for bathing.

A gnawing sensation tears at my stomach and the nausea is worse. My stomach rumbles loudly. Jeremiah smiles and stands up. He walks slowly around the table and lowers his face so it aligns with mine.

"Is it true you're pregnant?" His breath smells sour, similar to off milk, it makes me want to gag. I close my eyes, trying not to inhale too deeply while suppressing the urge to retch.

"You and your unborn baby need nourishment. Write down what I want to know then you can eat to your heart's content. I'll even get you seconds if you desire it." His voice is laced with false sweetness as he places the pen in my hand. "Start writing. Now."

I remain still and unresponsive.

Jeremiah grabs my hair and slams my head into the table. Hot liquid gushes out of my nose and a gurgling sound erupts from my lips. The whole room flickers in and out of focus as a metallic pool of warm blood forms in my open mouth. He stands back, waiting for me to stop groaning and for the blood to stop pouring down my face. Heat and pressure builds as my face swells.

"Write," he barks again.

Neither of us move then my hand loosens around the pen which drops and clatters noisily onto the table. I'd kick him if my ankles weren't strapped to the legs of the chair I'm sitting in.

Jeremiah sighs loudly. With a flick of his hand Officials drag a conscious Grey and Sienna in.

I focus on Grey who looks around wildly. More bruises and cuts have been added to the already extensive collection on his face. His eyes settle on me briefly before looking at the floor. I try to look unaffected; I don't want Jeremiah to see the effect Grey is having on me. I force myself to not fight against my restraints so I can run over to Grey, touch him and explain everything. I lower my eyes to the table, dreading what is going to happen but I already sense the direction this scenario is going to take.

"Look up, Cady, or I'll shoot them both in the head," Jeremiah says firmly.

I slowly lift my eyes and they lock with Grey's before I drag my gaze away and look at Sienna. Her face is crumpled and she's looking at me pleadingly but I can't save her. Even if I tell him what he wants to know, Jeremiah will kill us all. Our only outcome is death. Only the amount of pain we'll have to suffer before being killed will change based on how much I say.

Jeremiah walks towards Grey and Sienna. "Cady, I've been nothing but decent and nice to you but you still refuse to cooperate. You're making me do this, Cady. I'm going to have to hurt them to teach you a lesson."

Jeremiah pulls out a blade. Twisting it in his hand, he walks behind the two of them as the Officials holding them force them onto their knees.

"This is your fault, Cady. And because it's your fault, you must choose who I must hurt. Tell me, who's eyes should I cut out? Grey or Sienna?"

"No," I croak, staring at the blade hovering between the two of them.

"Agree to write down everything you know and I won't have to," Jeremiah says.

"I can't," I whisper.

"Choose then, Cady. Who will I hurt first, Sienna or Grey?" He rests the blade below Sienna's eye and presses it into the dark ring which surrounds it. Abruptly, Jeremiah flicks it to below Grey's eye and presses downwards causing a droplet of blood to form at the tip.

"I can't write. I can't write or read. I've never learnt to. I can't do what you want." I'm shrieking at the thought of watching Grey's eyes being cut out. My body struggles against the restraints and the table shakes causing the plate of food to smash to the floor.

Jeremiah halts and arches an eyebrow in disbelief. "You're lying."

I shake my head vigorously as my whole body trembles along with my voice. "No. I'm not lying. I promise. I don't know how to read or write."

"This is a very interesting turn of events." Jeremiah smiles widely, glancing down at Grey briefly before he turns back to me. "I have a lot of questions for you, and I know how to make you answer them."

Jeremiah walks out and the Officials follow, dragging Grey and Sienna away as they both struggle against the hands holding them.

Why do I feel like this was a test that I failed miserably?