Sins Loom: The Unwilling Weaver

“I am going to ask you a few questions and you will answer them honestly. I will know if you lie, so don’t do that. Let’s get started.” The man was apathetic, almost clinical in nature, as if he had done this countless times before.

Like it was just a minor footnote in his day to day life. And that he’d rather get it done quickly so that he could do something less mundane.

Is this what I was like? Chris was familiar with that cold apathy. He was the exact same each time he had to interrogate a new criminal.

The first time you do something, maybe even the first ten times, it would feel exhilarating and fresh. But once you’ve done it a hundred times, any emotion you could get from it would wane.

Chris was brought back into the moment by a slight coughing sound as the man cleared his throat.

“How long have you been working this job?” the man asked.

Chris’ mind drifted back as he quickly found the answer. “Eleven years,” he answered shakily, unsure how specific he would need to be.

The man’s cold eyes looked at him, observing him for a moment, and then he nodded. “Good.”

Chris felt the spikes that were prodding him in the back shift. They pushed inwards, breaking through his clothes and piercing the skin. It wasn’t deep, but it was still painful.

“Ugh,” Chris groaned. Trying in vain to move his body away from the spikes. He carefully looked to the side, and saw that the spikes were noticeably bigger. “Why?”

“Just think of it as a little incentive to keep your mind sharp. It won’t kill you. Not unless you lie of course,” the man yawned, rubbing his eyes. “Now in those eleven years, how many people have you interrogated?”

How am I supposed to know that? Chris racked his brain for an answer, the spikes digging into his skin calling for his attention. Luckily, he had been through far worse pain on the battlefield, so he could still handle himself.

There aren’t too many criminals dangerous enough for us to have to deal with them. And I’m not the only one in this position... He tried to filter through his thoughts to get a correct answer.

“110, 120 maybe. I really can’t remember.” He was afraid. Worried that the man would think he was lying and would close the doors on him forever.

The man observed him up and down, scrutinising every facet of his being. “Not a lie.”

Chris breathed a sigh of relief, which immediately turned into a groan followed by a sharp exhale as the spikes grew. The spikes that were in his skin pushed further, cutting up his muscles. While more of the spikes grew long enough to push through his clothes and into his body.

It was agony.

He wanted to writhe in pain and pull himself off the spikes, but he couldn’t go anywhere. Not only that, but if he moved too much, it would just result in the spikes leaving massive gashes in his body that would only quicken his demise.

“When did you start using inhumane methods like torture to get confessions?” the man asked.

Chris groaned in pain as he tried to push the answer out through gritted teeth. “Three years ago.”

“That’s not entirely true.” The man grabbed the doors on either side and started to pull them closed.

The heavy metal scrapped along the concrete floor. The man’s muscles bulging as he dragged the doors closer together.

Chris paled. No longer caring about the consequences, he moved about in attempts to free himself. The spikes sliced through his skin and muscle, gouging out massive gashes as Chris tried to rip himself away from them.

A date flashed into his mind as he watched the doors slowly close in on him “March twelfth! March twelfth three years ago!”

Chris looked up at the man as the grinding sound halted. He had taken his hands off the doors.

“Now that’s the correct answer.”

Chris had never felt more relieved. And had also never been in more agony. He started to regret his actions. Both of him moving, and of him answering so quickly. He knew now that he had to be specific if he wanted to get out of this alive.

The spikes grew out even further, now pushing deep into his muscles and eliciting an agonising wail. His body was slick with blood as the spikes started draining him of all that he had.

He could feel some spikes now pushing against the sides of his head. Barely deep enough to break the skin, but now he knew that things would only get worse.

He stared at the doors that were now closer than ever and felt suffocated.

“In that time, how many people have you inhumanely tortured?”

He thought about this for a while. The pain was constantly jabbing at his mind, making it difficult for him to focus on anything else, but he knew he needed to be careful here. “26 people.”

It was a fairly large number of people, but he could remember each and every one of them, so he was sure that he hadn’t gotten it wrong.

“That’s correct.”

Chris would have rejoiced if it wasn’t for the unbearable pain that followed. He could feel the spikes growing through his body, and he could swear that he felt them pushing against the bone in some places.

He could barely contain himself, and screamed out in pain.

The man calmly took a few steps back, distancing himself from Chris and allowing him to scream.

It was a hoarse, painful cry. And by the end of it, Chris’ throat felt like it had been forced to swallow gravel.

His entire body radiated pain, making it incredibly difficult for him to focus. His vision was faded and blurry. His ears were wet with blood and he felt like he could die at any moment.