The year is 1942 and Europe is at the height of World War Two. Mila Goldstein, a Dutch Jew living in occupied Holland, has signed on as an informant for the British Secret Intelligence Service (SIS). However, days before her assignment, a wounded Ge...
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New chapter ... YAY! ****TRIGGER WARNING**** This chapter contains a pretty violent scene ... I've broken it up with a (~) so if you want to skip that part, you can! Let me know what you guys think! Ya'll are the best! <3
Inhaling deeply, Mila pushed down the terror that had overtaken her moments before. She couldn't let Meyer see her like that ... She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Screwing up her face into a look of rebellious indifference, she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes locking with his.
"I said have a seat," He repeated the order. She turned around to face him, staying rooted to the spot where she stood. He gritted his teeth in annoyance. This was the same song and dance they did every time. She would disobey his orders, pushing his buttons until he lashed out at her. She knew she was making it harder on herself, but she refused to lay down and submit to him. She wouldn't give him that. Anything he got from her, he was going to have to extract with force. Unbuckling his belt, he slipped it off.
~
Crossing the room, he grabbed her hair, slinging her against the wall, her head hitting the cinderblock with a thud, slicing a thin gash over her temple. She blinked, her vision full of tiny, little spots, as blood trickled from the wound. He grabbed her shoulder, and spun her around, pushing the front of her body against the wall.
"I'm growing increasingly tired of your disobedience," He seethed against her ear. Grabbing her hands, he yanked them behind her back. He took the belt and looped it around her wrists before cinching it tightly. Once he had restrained her, he pulled her off the wall and walked her across the room to the chair. Shoving her down into a seated position, he wrapped a thick rope around each ankle, securing them to the legs of the chair.
Glancing down at the large tub of water that sat beside the chair, she blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. Her head was throbbing from the blow it had just received, but she was still able to think straight enough to know exactly what Meyer had in store for her. He was going to water board her.
Swallowing down the new wave of fear that had washed over her, she looked from the tub, to S.S. Meyer. He was studying her, scanning her face for any crack in the facade of calmness she'd been trying to exude. She glared up at him defiantly.
"Let's get started then, shall we?" He said, ignoring her disdainful expression. "What information did you pass to SIS during your time at The War Office? ... I assume you know what this is?" He asked, directing his attention to the tub of water when she didn't answer his initial question. She stared at him, refusing to acknowledge him. "Do you know how it works ... waterboarding?"
"I have an idea," She replied flatly.
"It makes you feel like you're drowning. Like you're going to die ... You won't though," He smirked, rolling up the sleeves of his uniform. "I can do it as many times as I want, and it won't kill you ... Now, answer my question."
