Blood trickled out of the corner of Azriel’s mouth. His eyes, teary, burned to the point where it was difficult to keep them open for a long period of time. Considering where he was, in what he assumed was an interrogation room, sitting in a chair, hands tied behind his back, there wasn’t much to see anyway.<br/><br/>The walls of the room were thin; he could hear people speaking outside. As he faded in and out of consciousness, Azriel tried to pick up what was being said, but the conversation was just out of earshot. Whenever he tried to focus, he was struck with a terrible, splitting headache so he wouldn’t have gotten anything either way. He doubted it was anything good. It was a miracle they had even kept him alive as long as they had instead of killing him. They probably expected him to wish he was dead, but instead he felt anger build up the more he thought about the situation. It felt like days had passed since he woke up here. He lost sense of time after they had punched him in the gut enough times. He was sure he had some cracked ribs from that abuse. The people keeping him here made sure he was uncomfortable.<br/><br/>Each minute that passed by, he cursed himself for being so careless. It all started when he and a few people, about fifteen had formed a unit to go check out a building south of Gaza that belonged to enemy forces. The building was said to contain weapons, among other things. Leaving the comforts of sitting behind a sniper rifle, which was what he had been trained for in the first place, was risky enough. At first he had not wanted to go along. The man in charge, someone he knew well, had insisted he come along and needless to say it did not take much to convince him. It was sad how easily he could be persuaded sometimes. Just like with any bad situation turned worse, it had started out pretty smoothly when they all arrived at the location without trouble. Then the decision to split up into three groups was made and then everything started to go wrong.<br/><br/>The group Azriel was in had been responsible for keeping a look out. The enemy had struck so swiftly, giving them little time to react, next thing he knew he was here. It was pretty ironic. This whole week had been filled with good many little surprised from the enemy. He should have known that there was going to be an ambush. Prior to the ambush the area had been far too quiet; it was not wise to trust situations that were too quiet. Sometimes it was his paranoia, or anxiety, that got to him, telling him there was something wrong. A lot of times, he was right. He should have listened. But convincing someone as stubborn as the man placed in charge of the group, he might as well, have been talking to a wall. Still, he couldn’t help but feel responsible for this… He had a right to, didn’t he?<br/><br/>He shook his head, letting out a sigh, deciding to push the thought out of his thoughts and focus on trying to stay conscious. It was no use thinking about things that happened in the past. He was only human, and humans made mistakes. Even when a mistake could very well cost him his life, it was no use; he should not dwell on it.<br/><br/>The door opened suddenly sometime later and for a brief moment a little more light was allowed into the room. There was no way to tell how much later. It could have been only a few minutes that passed by. A man stood over him, cracking his knuckles. The light hurt his eyes, intensifying his slowly forming headache, the guy didn’t even bother shutting the door knowing his prisoner was going nowhere, he turned his head away. He didn’t even have to look at him to know he was smiling.<br/><br/>“Still not very talkative, are you?” He said. Arrogance rang in his voice louder than church bells. "I really would like to know why you and your friends were snooping around."<br/><br/>Azriel did not respond.<br/><br/>“I’ll take that as a yes. Perhaps we should see what we can do to change that?”<br/><br/>Still no response.<br/><br/>The man hit him hard across the mouth. He winced but, other than a sharp inhale, made no sound to indicate how much it hurt. That felt like the man had knocked a few teeth lose, and made whatever injuries were there worse. This man was ruthless. He wondered if he even had a soul. In fact, he wondered if most of the people that took the time to be this cruel had souls. They seemed to enjoy tormenting and slaughtering people. Even someone like him, who kills people for a living, had a heart. No matter how cold he may seem, even when he was fighting for survival, he was nothing like this man. It seemed like an eternity passed since he started beating him. He was feeling even worse than he had before. How much more abuse could he take? Did the people who brought him here, and the man abusing him, intend to leave him here and watch him die?<br/><br/>Azriel was willing to hold out for as long as he could. He has lived a pretty rough life, was loyal to his country, and had a lot of blood on his hands. As a soldier, he fought for peace and was guided by the man who had changed his life. No matter what happened now, Azriel had no regrets; he was willing to die for his country. This man started beating him again, looking to see what he could do to break him, get information out of him, but he would tell them nothing. Even now, taking all of this abuse, he kept his mouth shut. He felt dizzy, disoriented from the beating he took from them, and was also hungry. He felt dehydrated; his mouth was dry. Managing to block everything out was difficult but once he discovered how thirsty he was blocking out his hunger was the easiest.<br/><br/>Eventually the man stopped. “Alright, that’s enough for now.” He said in a cocky tone that he wished he could silence for good. He might have done just that, if he wasn’t in his position. Part of him had expected the man to say something more, to hum, sing, do something else, maybe even give him another kick, as he left but he was completely silent. He walked away, closing the door behind him.<br/><br/>Azriel was left in the dark again. At that moment it felt like one of the most relieving things he had experienced all week. The only thing that would complete it was a glass of wine. He took in a deep breath and tried to relax. Every part of him hurt. He squeezed his eyes tighter, groaned under his breath, and tried to block out the pain but that seemed impossible. He had to give the enemy some points, he was definitely suffering, in pain. Blocking out that pain was proving a little more difficult. If there was any time he wished he could get out of here, it was definitely now. Did that make him a coward? Was it natural that someone in his position wanted out, or was he just weak? He really did not want to think of himself as weak. He would gladly die here… but he could still be hopeful. Somewhat.<br/><br/>Nobody needed to tell him twice that his chances of getting out of here were pretty grim, however. In his current position, since he was a little tied up at the moment, it was obvious he couldn’t do it alone. He wondered if someone who had been in his unit would come to his rescue. If he had to hazard a guess, there was a chance he was in that building somewhere. Then again, they could have all been killed or perhaps killed off as well. If they were all alive, perhaps someone had reported them missing. Maybe they had retreated and went back to headquarters. Surely they would come back, with reinforcements, if they had. Then again he has been at this long enough, and seen too much death to think that positively. The chances were there, but he was stuck here either way. If they did send someone, it wouldn’t be until a few days later.<br/><br/>But he was getting too lost in his thoughts, right? While some might say the mind was a safe place, it was also a dangerous place if one thought too much. He would get too caught up in strange ideals and lose track of things. Then, he would be even more fucked than he was now and surely that was a fate worse than death.