Divine Charity

Chapter Thirteen: Topsy Turvy

A/N: So do we hate Khamuel? 

She lay on her side in total blackness. They never turned the lights on. They told her if she wanted light, all she had to do was react to the darkness. Lena had no idea what that meant. If only she could rest! But, every few hours, they injected her with a medication that suppressed her body's ability to induce sleep. She tried to roll over, but couldn't get her body to cooperate. Giving up, she stayed in the fetal position on the tiny platform she assumed was for sleeping. It was easier not to move. If there was one thing an alien knew how to do, it was "interrogation." They were sadistic in their quest for her father.

It was enough to make anyone crazy, and she was going crazy. She could withstand starvation. She could withstand unquenched thirst. But with lack of sleep clouding her mind, Lena simply didn't know how much longer she could hold off telling them everything. The safety of her daughters was more important. She had to focus on her daughters. For them, she would suffer anything.

Ah, but these aliens were getting more aggressive. She was in a space where her newfound telepathy could not escape. She didn't know how her daughters were doing or what was happening to them. Of course, her captors would tell her nothing other than making vague threats against them. And Khamuel? Not a peep. He was completely gone from her mind. Which was no more than she expected at this point.

Bright light stabbed into her eyes as the door glided open. Lena couldn't stop the whimper of pain when rough hands grabbed her and hauled her to her feet. She didn't bother to expend the energy needed to fight back. Every bit of strength would be needed to make it through this next bout of whatever was going to happen.

They dropped her into a chair and strapped her down. There were three of them this time. The interrogator known as Klausr, whose voice she recognized immediately, and two of his meat-handlers, or so she had dubbed them. For a race of beings who claimed higher respect for a "maternal life force," they sure seemed to get their jollies over roughing her up. Though they had never tied her to a chair before. Lena wouldn't allow herself to think about what that meant. She simply took a breath and faced Klausr. He wasn't the worst of the interrogators who questioned her, but with his wandering hands, he was no ray of sunshine.

The meat-handlers stood back, stony-faced. Klausr approached her. Lena did as well as she could to quell her shaking. She couldn't read his expression. She refused to flinch.

"Kravan'n has condescended to meet with you today." Klausr looked down his nose at her. "He will be here shortly."

Lena inhaled, closing her eyes. She didn't want to see him.

"You poor thing," Klausr cooed softly. "If only you weren't so stubborn."

"I maybe stubborn, but at least I'm not too stupid to–"

The back of his hand connected with her jaw. "Are you not? Haven't you been captured?"

"By sheer numbers only!" Lena cried in frustration. "You wouldn't have been able to capture me any other way."

Another blow landed, and pain exploded behind her right eye. She could already feel it beginning to swell.

The cell door slid open again, and the light caused her to flinch. Lena wondered if she would ever be able to face the light again. Or the sun. Would she ever see the ... any sun again? She choked back a sudden attack of emotion. A cool head would be the only thing to get her through this.

Footsteps circled around her, but she kept her head down, and her eyes closed against the light. With the door still open, Lena could send a weak wave of telepathic energy out. She sobbed out loud when she could not find her daughters' energy anywhere. Were they–