Page 180 of Somno Slave

He knows exactly what I’m trying to do. He knows I’m asking because testimony changes things. Because mitigation matters. Because a documented history of torture, coercion, abuse, institutional concealment—anything—could slow the board down, could force review, could make death less immediate.

It could keep him alive.

Peter goes still beside me.

“What did they do to you?”

“Careful,” Peter says sharply.

I barely hear him.

Something shifts across Deogal’s face. Small. Brief. Like he enjoys hearing the question.

Peter leans back slightly from the table. “This interview is not about your sympathy.”

Heat climbs instantly up my throat.

“I’m not sympathising,” I say too quickly.

Peter’s eyes cut toward me. The room feels suddenly too quiet.

Deogal watches me through all of it without blinking. He finally breaks the silence. “They hurt me.”

The answer should feel important. Instead, it slides under my skin wrong. It’s too vague. Too easy.

My chest tightens with frustration. “How?”

Peter’s jaw locks immediately. “Enough.”

Deogal shifts forward an inch.

“First they leave you in the dark long enough that every sound starts feeling like a threat,” he says quietly. “Then they make you wait outside the door while somebody else screams.”

My stomach drops.

“Then eventually,” his eyes stay fixed on mine, “your body starts shaking before they even touch you.”

My fingers tighten painfully around the file.

Peter shoves back from the table hard enough that the chair legs screech.

“Stop.” His voice hardens. “Don’t you dare sit there and make her listen to this.”

Deogal smiles faintly. “I thought you wanted a confession.”

“We already have one.”

“No,” Deogal says. “You have a word you can use.”

He turns back to me. “And she wants the rest.”

Heat crawls up my throat, sharp and humiliating.

Peter looks at me like he doesn’t recognise me.

I force myself to speak before he can. “Did they torture you?”

My pulse is so loud I can barely hear anything else.