Fighting Scared by Robin Horsfall

Author:Robin Horsfall [Horsfall, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2002-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

I estimated that my next period of questioning started after about twelve hours. This was a tough one. Two policemen in full uniform accused me of breaking into a house and stealing the scissors. For a second or two they really had me going. Their questions were justified to some extent, although I had actually stolen the scissors from a shed. Now I was getting tired, and had to force myself to calm down and think carefully. They could see that they had hit a nerve and started to ask their questions faster and faster. I clammed up, trying to think clearly. I was confused, and couldn't work out whether this was real or a part of the exercise.

'Who's in charge here?' asked one of the policemen. That was it: the one question too many. To gain access to this establishment these guys must have known who was in charge, so now it was clear to me that they were part of the 'game'. 'I can't answer that question: I said, and they realized they had missed their chance.

The stress positions became agonizing and it was getting increasingly hard to take my mind off the pain by counting, so now I started to recite nursery rhymes under my breath. I estimated how many it probably took to get through five minutes and said them over and over again. My right shoulder felt like it was falling off. I had started grunting in pain every time the guards touched it; I also let it hang down and rubbed it whenever I had to change position. I began to pray that someone out there in the dark would notice that I was in pain.

My memory of the rest of the questioning sessions is not so good. I recall being naked and bent over while all and sundry laughed at me. I also remember being offered food and drink, but I had to say I wanted it in order to get it. I was tired: I had had no sleep for two days and I was allowed no respite. When I went into the next session I estimated I'd done eighteen hours. I was almost asleep on my feet.

This time the man behind the desk was sitting in shadow, and the light was turned down. He left me standing and, in a soft Canadian accent, enquired after my health. I gave the standard replies, but I knew that my speech was slow and slurred. After about ten minutes I was swaying on my feet. The questioner told the guard to get a chair and I sat down. 'What is your name? What is your rank? What is your number? What is your date of birth?' In his soft, repetitive, toneless voice he repeated the same four questions, over and over again. He kept this up for a long, long time. My head sank lower and lower onto my chest. I was almost snoring, but the questions kept on coming and I kept on answering.

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