Capitol Conspiracy

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You’re a proud man, Marshall told himself when he regained consciousness, and a proud man doesn’t scream. No matter what they do to him. He was a former marine. He was trained to resist. So when they first began hitting him, he almost wanted to laugh. Did they seriously believe he would betray his country because of that? They would never get anything out of him. This became his mantra. It was a form of self-hypnosis; he would immunize himself against the pain.

It worked-for the first four minutes. Then he screamed with such ferocity that he could not stop long enough to breathe.

They did not relent. They hit him again and again.

He was securely tied to a chair; there was nothing he could do to stop them. They took turns, one after the other, which made the blows rain down on his battered body all the more quickly. The one called the General worked on his abdomen while his sadistic underling kicked him repeatedly, at the base of his spine, his groin, the front of his kneecaps. He kicked and kicked over and over again on the same tender knee until Marshall felt something break. He realized to his disgust and despair that despite the unbearable new shock wave of misery that coursed through his body, it was not physically possible for him to scream any louder than he was already screaming.

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