I feel the engine start and we begin what I assume is the journey to the Center. The Center, I think, that sounds ominous.

After driving for only a few minutes, the truck comes to a halt. The engine then cuts out and I hear the two front doors slam closed. I hear muffled shouts. It almost sounds like, "freeze." I hear nothing for what feels like an eternity, then, suddenly the outside door's lock clicks open. The doors are swung open and I am temporarily blinded by the bright light. When my vision somewhat clears, I see that each soldier has someone. Both soldiers have their guns out now. They each shove the person they are restraining into the truck.

When my vision fully clearers, I realize that it is Jay and Frank. I also realize that my one eye is too swollen to see out of. I betray no recognition to our captors. I refuse to acknowledge the new prisoners. The men repeat the process that they used on me less than thirty minutes ago. Finally, the soldiers have Jay and Frank secured. They both climb out of the back of the truck and close the doors. Once again I hear the outside lock click, sealing our fate. Jay is the first to speak.

"Is everyone alright?" he whispers over the engine that started up in the front.

"I'm fine," Frank responds.

"I'm okay," I say

"I saw your face, you are not okay. I never should have sent someone so inexperienced out without training. God, I'm sorry."

"It is not your fault," I insist, "And besides it really is not a big deal. He didn't even break my nose."

"I saw your face. What did you do to get punched like that?" Frank questioned.

"I kicked him. Hard."

"That was unwise. They are going to charge you for resisting arrest on top of whatever else we will be charged with,' states Jay.

"I know."

Jay sighs. "You do realize how bad this is, right?"

"Yes, sir."

Frank sighs this time. "How did they find us, anyway? We were well hidden in those bushes."

"I was hidden deep in the brush, also."

"I don't know," Jay answered, "But what I do know is that if we speak about each other, our camp or anything at all, we will be condemning our people to the same fate. We must remain strong in the face of weakness. If any of us speak, all that we will have gone through will be for nothing. So, I implore that you remain silent. That you protect our camp, our people, and our mission. I am telling you now that you will feel pain that you have never known. You will be tempted many times to crack and crumble, but know in those moments that each of us in this truck will be going through the same torture. That no matter how much pain you are in, remember by doing this you are saving many people from the same fate as you."

"I promise to remain silent," I declare. I know now that with this immeasurable pressure on me to protect the camp's lives that I will not loose my resolve.

"I promise, too," Frank says.

"I promise," Jay says.

"I am truly sorry for the position I have placed you in, Melanie and Frank." After that, there is nothing left to be said.

*****************************************************************

We must have been driving for a long time because when the outside lock clicks open and the doors are swung open, it is no longer bright out. From where I sit, I cannot see the sky, but I know that the moon is out because of the glow it casts down to the earth. In the moonlight, we glance at each other one final time. We are now strangers.

One of the soldiers says something into a walkie talkie. It was too quiet to make out, but I have a feeling that it had something to do with us. A few minutes later, four police officers come towards the truck. They climb into the back along with the two soldiers. The two soldiers release my legs and hands. Once I am freed, they order me to stand. I obey because what other choice do I have. One of them places the gun back at my temple. As we step out into the cool night air, I shiver. My mind is going through all of the different ways that I could escape, but none of them end with my freedom. The only way out of this that I see is death, and I am not willing to die because I am unhappy with my current circumstances. One thing I have learned through the last months is that circumstances change quickly.

When the soldiers have me farther away from their backup, they order me to place my hands on my head. I do it. We walk for a few minutes until we get to the Center's entrance. A sign on the outside of the building reads, "all prisoners must be handcuffed at all times inside the Center."

"Stop," the soldier commands. I stop. He comes close to me and once again pulls my wrists to the small of my back and locks the cool steel cuffs tightly on my sore skin. It feels like he tightened them harder than he did earlier. As they lead me into the Center, I feel my skin being rubbed off of my wrists. It feels inconsequential when compared to the larger situation at hand. I slow in front of a list tapped up to the wall. I must have stopped moving, because the barrel of the gun is shoved into my shoulder. I trip forward, but I glance back one more time at my name on Massachusetts 10 Most Wanted list. I wonder what I did that any other person rebelling hasn't done. I have not seriously injured anyone, so this makes no sense to me.

The building is practically bleached white. There is nothing. No color other than a computer screens at a few desks. I am pushed down a long corridor, which - again - is stark white on all surfaces. The older soldier pulls a keycard out of one of the pockets on his pants. He quickly scans it over the reader and the little light blinks from red to green. The latch mechanism in the door clunks open. The soldier turns the knob and pushes forcefully on the door, forcing it open. The young soldier jabs be hard and I almost whimper, but I bite my tongue. The taste of blood fills my mouth, but I ignore it and push it to the back of my mind along with the pain in my raw wrists.

We make our way down three sets of steps, passing two levels before we reach the third and final level. There is another door at the bottom of the stairwell, unlike the other levels that lacked this extra measure of security. The older soldier once again steps forward and scans his keycard. I have to admit, if only to myself, that I am scared at what awaits me on this obviously more restrictive level. If not for the situation, I would have laughed at how ridiculous it is that a sixteen year old girl is being placed on the maximum security level.

The older soldier once again forces the door open with his shoulder. Once I am through the door the soldier behind me pulls the door shut and pushes what appears to be a lock button. I feel more trapped down on this sub-basement level than I did in the truck. At least then I was mere inches away from freedom. Here, it feels as if I am miles and miles away from salvation.

Only a few feet after the door, I see the first cell. It is small, probably five feet by five feet . There is a bucket in the corner and a metal bench that stretched from one side of the cell to the other. Three of the four walls were cement blocks painted white. The forth wall faced the hallway and was made of metal bars. Most of them were vertical, but a few were horizontal.

The most disturbing part, however was mot the bright to the point of almost blinding light in the ceiling of each cell, but the fact that every prisoner had been stripped down to his underwear. The prisoners all appeared to have brusing all over their bodies. When I was looking at them, that was when I noticed how they were all shivering. I glanced up. There was a vent next to the light in the ceiling that appeared to be continually blowing cold air on the prisoners.

We walked past about ten cells. The cells only lined one side of the hallway. They must not want us to be able to see each other. The eleventh cell is empty. I feel my stomach drop out. I just know that this cell is for me.

"Stop," the older soldier orders. I contemplate running. I wonder what would happen if I did. I have nothing to loose, so I bolt towards the door, catching them both off guard. I don't make it very far before the young soldier tackles me. I knee him in the groin, desperately trying to avoid being locked in the cell. That is when I feel the tazzer jab into my skin. When he clicks it on, I am so close to yelling out in anguish before I bite my tongue. When he stops, I glare up at him defiantly. This time he catches me by surprise when he tazzers me again. That is when I start cursing at him. He tazzers me a third time and this time I loose control over my body and a scream rips out from between my clenched lips. He stands up and looks down on me.

"You will learn respect," he declares before hauling me to my feet. I am then dragged to the cell. There is a hook in front of each of the cells coming down from the ceiling. I lifts me up to it and hooks the chain between my handcuffs on it. Despite being almost 5'10" My feet are almost three inches off of the ground. The pain in my wrists as the already too tight cuffs dig deeper into my flesh is excruciating. My face starts to contorts in pain, but I stop and raise my head. The young soldier who tazzered me pulls out a knife and I think, this is the end. To my surprise, instead of cutting my skin, he cuts off my clothing, leaving only my underwear and bra.

Once I am nearly nude, I expect him to throw me into the cell and leave, but he walks away while I remain hanging. The older soldier looks at me and i think I see a brief of compassion, but it disappears as quickly as it came. He approaches me. When his face is barely an inch away from mine, he moves the hair away from my ear.

"It would serve you well to obey our commands," he whispers to me. I actually think that he is trying to warn me that if I defy them that the consequences will be severe.

"London! Get over here and release this girl. I would like to actually get home some point tonight.

"Coming, Sir!" Yells the soldier who I now know as London. He comes over and grabs me tighter than necessary around my waist and lifts me down.

"Ordinarily," London speaks to me, "I would take your handcuffs off, but I think it would serve you well to have a reminder of us. I am shakily standing on my feet.

"Inside." he commands. I hesitate. London then takes both of his hands and shoves me in so that I fall backwards into the tiny cell. He pulls the bared door closed and locks it into place.

As they retreats down the hall, I hear snippets of their conversation. The younger man speaks of his small child and the older man says something in reply, but I cannot make out what it is. For the first time since the beginning of this ordeal, I'm glad that I did not shoot that man.

My nausea starts up once again and I realize that I am still on the hard concrete floor. With my hands cuffed behind my back, it makes it difficult to gain my footing. Once I am standing, I move towards the bucket and throw up. I wipe my face on my shoulder, since my hands are still secured behind my back. I move the two steps to the bench and sit down. THe metal feels brutally cold on my bare legs. The vent in my cell then turns on and I know that it will not turn off. The lack of warmth is torture. It is true that there could be a lot worse things happening to be. Despite this fact, my shivering shows no sign of stopping.

"Why did you defy them?" asks a gruff voice in the cell next to mine. I consider many lies but then I decide to answer honestly.

"Getting beaten up seemed like a better alternative to being stripped and thrown in this cell."

"What did you do to get put on level three? You are the first woman I have seen on this level, let alone a child."

"I guess that's what happens when you are on the Massachusetts Most Wanted list." I reply sourly.

"What did you do to get put on that?"

"I honestly don't even know what is legal anymore. It could have been any number of things."

"I noticed your face was beat up when you came in. You seem to get yourself in a lot of trouble. Mind if I ask what you did to get that? They don't usually beat us until interrogation."

"I kicked the face of one of those men who brought me in. He had bent down to lock on those ankle cuffs in the transport truck and I wanted to prove that I'm not some sobbing little girl that won't stand up for what she believes in."

"That attitude won't serve you well here. There have been grown adult men who have come in with your attitude and cracked in mere hours under their interrogation."

"I cannot risk my baby's safety. I will not crack and I will not bow down to these people. i don't care how many times the beat me down, I swear to God I will get back up."

"How old are you?"

"I'm sixteen."

"How old were you when you got pregnant?"

"She is not biologically my baby. Her mother was going to kill her, so I took her in and cared for her. She is more my baby than she will ever be that woman's."

"If she was not your baby, why would you take on such a huge responsibility during times as bad as these?"

"That is precisely why. Who is going to adopt a baby when the whole country is imploding on itself?"

"I can see that you are a strong woman. I hope they don't break you. You should try to rest."

"Alright," I agree. I do not want the man to worry, but with these cuffs, it is impossible to lie down. So, instead. I sit awake under the light and cold air. My mind goes through endless loops of what I could have done differently. All of my outcomes land me here, in this place. A few of my choices made this experience worse, but I do not regret any of those decisions. I must show my strength in the face of this cruelty.

2653 words. Comment and vote if you like the story or have advice and tips (just don't be rude:))