Blood and Guts

iii

Warning : contains strong language and is not meant to hurt anyone's religious beliefs and any human resemblance is absolutely coincidental.

The devil resides in all of us waiting to be unleashed, the only truth about him is that he'll show you who you really are. Clear and crystal. Without a mirror.

Guantánamo Bay, Cuba

The beast screams in agony, there's blood spilled on the walls. There are stories here, trapped, both of the sinners and the innocent. This is what hell is. He doubts if anything could be worse.

"But what did i do wrong ?" His voice was thickly accented and muffled by the guard's foot crushing his face between the sole of his polished shoe and the grimy floor.

The guard pressed his shoe harder until the man cried and cursed in Arabic.

" You take a piss when i tell you to. "

The man screamed as the shoe dug deeper and deeper into his cheek bone, his hands tugging violently at his beard.

" I would've killed you if it were a normal day," the guard said, his uniform making him invincible, the power in his hands limitless, " but I'm in a good mood today and i certainly don't want a fucking terrorist to ruin it for me just because he couldn't hold his fucking piss ."

The man screeched in agony choking, and crying, he called out for god but he didn't listen. God didn't listen to those in Guantánamo.

"Fucks sake let the poor man go."

"The beast speaks," the guard smiled slyly at Aramis who lay in his cell staring at the chipped ceiling crumpling per second onto his sweaty clothes and the floor.

" Need to keep you reminding every once in a while that the beast is going to kill you all miserable fuckers one day. And that day is not very far. " Aramis said in a flat tone.

"Is that a threat niño ?"

"A wake up call señor."

The guard laughed, the filthy laugh that all men with power shared, the deep throated one with arrogance, the one his father had.

He hated that. The root of his very anger.

The guard lifted the man by fisting the hair on his scalp and threw him back into the cell that reeked of urine.

The man cupped his cheek as the guard locked the bars .

" You cannot do this to me, I'm a lawyer. This is violating the human rights. Let me go !"

"Human rights?" The callous guard smiled , "who even said you're a human ?"

*

Ibrahim lowered himself as he bowed east to the arms of God who without judgement would listen to his prayers be it from Guantánamo or his home in Michigan where his five year old daughter would dance around and his wife would cook saalan and rice in the kitchen while he stared at both of them lovingly and prayed for their happiness and strength. But now that he wasn't with them he was falling apart, all he now had was Allah with him so he prayed as a ritual. He prayed for their health, their happiness. He prayed that he'd get out of here and hug his daughter, make love to his wife and never let them go. He prayed for life.

He prayed for forgiveness for something wrong he hadn't done.

He prayed for the boy punching the wall bloody, wondering what happened to him that made him almost dead on the inside.

*

"Are you really going to kill them all, Aramis?"

"No."

"Then why do you say that ?"

"Because they are going to die."

"But you are not going to kill them ?"

"No."

"Then who will?"

Ibrahim propped himself on his elbows, the night setting in. He stared at the boy who hadn't moved an inch since the past hour, the blood almost dried on his knuckles and arms. He stared out of the tiny crack of an opening at the top of his cell where the crisp moonlight was the only thing that illuminated the bunker

It was then after a while Aramis spoke, " you will. "

*

They protect people from our said crimes , we are a threat to people and they who misuse power are a threat to us. If we are wrong the guards set us straight but who sets them straight when they are wrong?

*

"Ibrahim wake up."

He opened his eyes to meet sparkling hazel ones a devillish glint in them.

"It's our time to run."

"H-how did yo-"

"Run!"

Ibrahim ran behind this boy whom he had never known, a complete stranger yet he could be his son. Young but muscled enough to pass off as a man but, there was something about him, the boyish charm maybe ?

Ibrahim was slow, very slow.

With his trail of thought flooding his mind he could feel Aramis' silhouette disappearing, his eyes blurring in the biting cold that pierced his skin through his torn prison uniform.

I can be a free man, he thought, running through the dark corridor as Aramis disappeared into thin air.

"Going somewhere?"  A loud voice echoed and reverberated along the thick cemented walls of the building. A voice way too familiar.

Ibrahim froze dead on his tracks, turning around slightly, sweat dripping down his forehead. He was afraid , afraid of death, and he wasn't more afraid when he couldn't stare at death straight in the eye.

" Filthy little bastard," the guard growled , pointing his gun straight at Ibrahim's forehead, " I should've killed you before itself. Showed you no mercy."

The guard pulled the trigger.

Sanchez, Rodrigo Sanchez. That was his name.

That's all Ibrahim could remember before he fell.

*

Ibrahim was in heaven but he did not see god there. Instead, he saw Aramis holding out a gun to him, telling him to shoot Rodrigo Sanchez, aiming straight for his heart and he did.

*

" Who are you boy ?"

Aramis smiled, a look of pure innocence , " wouldn't you like to know?"

*

[ A/N ] :
What do y'all think?

It is unfortunate what happens in Guantánamo bay , and everyone is a human regardless of whatever they have done. No one deserves to be treated inhumanely.

If they are wrong , are we any better ?