Page 32 of Operation: Defiance

My teeth clack together. I nod. Nodding doesn’t require speech.

They guide me forward, and I count steps without thinking. At twelve, my shoulder twinges. I restart, but lose the thread at seven. Or was it nine?

The floor texture changes under my bare feet, smooth giving way to rough, and the air cools before warming again.

I’m lowered into another chair, this one wider and more solid.

My wrists are locked in front of me, low and close to my body. Ankles next. The position holds me upright without effort.

My shoulders relax for a split second before the cuffs tighten, metal biting into the soft inside of my wrist.

I gasp, unable to stop the harsh inhale from slipping free.

Pressure sparks at the base of my thumb, so sharp it’s nauseating.

“Don’t pull,” the man says, voice calm. Almost bored.

“I didn’t—” My breath catches as the pain spikes, then recedes just enough I can speak again. “I understand.”

Another voice whispers something I can’t make out. This one sounds…impatient. Or maybe frustrated?

“Non-compliance will result in correction to maintain your safety.”

Safety.

That’s the framework. Everything is my fault. The pain exists because I failed to control myself quickly enough.

“Do you understand?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Explain.”

I hesitate.

A hand settles at my elbow. It’s not pain yet. More like a warning. They aren’t teaching me the rules so much as the consequences of breaking them.

“Non-compliance,” I say carefully, “will result in correction to maintain my safety.”

The pressure eases.

“Acceptable.”

My body’s response is immediate. Relief sharp enough to make my eyes water.

I crush it.

Hands adjust my posture, pushing my shoulders back. Each inhale drags across my broken ribs. I try to trap the hiss before they hear it, but fail.

Pressure lands higher this time, along the side of my neck, close enough to my pulse point that my vision sparks and I cry out.

“Control your reactions,” the man says. This time, his voice is almost gentle. “You’re safe.”

I know he’s lying, but somewhere deep down, I want to believe him.

When the pain finally fades, my whole body is shaking.

They wait.