As I walked forward, my gun held in front of me, the emaciated cloth-covered man that was in my ear approved.

He had been with me since I had left home, replacing the lesser hallucinations of rats that always ran across my feet and bit my ankles. Their squeaks had sounded like cracking bones and sometimes screaming children. Their departure only cemented in the belief that what I was doing was my correct path and a sign that the restlessness would finally end.

I had never felt the need to tell anyone about my delusions, as they were very infrequent. My daily life had not been hindered, and when the cloth-covered man did show up, I sometimes felt his presence comforting. I knew he was an apparition of my creation; he was a part of myself if you will. That’s how I grew to accept him. He came when I was in the field, so I knew he was the part of me that thirsted for battle and an escape from the monotony of life. I had taken to calling him the priest, as his robes and often folded hands gave that impression, if more morbose.

We were currently on a reconnaissance mission, three other soldiers with me and the Sergeant in my ear. The other four privates were with him. The night was dark as we walked through bushes on an elevated hill above a quiet town.

An hour before, we had separated in different directions to cover more ground. We weren't that far from base camp, and our mission was just to observe. Hard to call it a mission, really.

Despite the relative calmness of the task, my heart was already racing as sand shifted beneath my feet. The rustle against dry desert leaves spiked my tension, even if the noise was from my own feet. Something about this night felt different. I had done this a hundred times, yet my nerves were like a baby deer in front of their first predator.

I felt like I was the one being hunted.

The night turned to day, and I went flying through the air. It made my ears ring, creating a throbbing pulse against my skull that sent blood trickling down my neck. My vision flew as I tried to make sense of the sudden burst of action. I could recognize a grenade attack, but where had they come from? How did they know? Why didn't the Sergeant warn us? He had eyes on our position and should have seen the approaching attackers.

I rolled through the sand, shoulder twisting painfully as I came to a stop. After a few moments, I drunkenly propped myself up on my good arm, trying to look for the others through the lack of sound and my shaking vision. My efforts did not last long, as something abruptly hit my temple, and I fell into darkness.

***

I woke to unfamiliar surroundings. Both my shoulders now ached, tied painfully behind my back as I breathed in the dust and mold from the floor. My inhales were loud in my ears, and I was relieved my hearing loss had not been permanent.

The light in the room I was in was dim; only a small window in the corner let it trickle in. Blinking my eyes rapidly, I took in my situation. I did not know who had taken me, nor what happened to my fellow soldiers. Answers would not come from my knowledge, so I let those questions leave me. It would only waste time speculating.

My ankles were also tied, and my boots were gone. All my weapons had been taken, along with my uniform jacket. My t-shirt was drenched in sweat, the small room insulating the desert heat to an extreme degree.

I strained against my ties to see if there was any give. However, all I earned from my struggles were rope burns and bleeding wrists. The restraints were tied too tightly to budge an inch, enough to start cutting off my circulation while I had remained dead to the world.

My pulse pounded in my neck as multiple footsteps alerted me to approaching visitors. I was, presumably, in an enemy camp, and I had no idea what awaited me. Helplessness ate at me, and my useless state caused my teeth to grind in an unforgiving rhythm as the door to my cell opened.

Three men stared down at me, and I stared back. The man in front spoke quickly to the others, in a language I recognized as native to Afghanistan. I had picked up phrases here and there during my service, but never took the time to fully learn Pashto. The double unknown put me more on edge as the two moved forward and cut the rope binding my feet.

Against my will, two of the men hooked on to one of my elbows, dragging me up. I stumbled as my legs buckled, blood rushing to them far too quickly. Given by the light coming through the window and the way I reacted to standing, I guessed I had been tied for most of the night and morning. More time passed out meant more things happening that I knew nothing about. The lack of information and sudden awakening in enemy territory was at the forefront of my brain, a throb that made focusing on where I stepped a challenge.

I was half-dragged down a hallway, the first man’s broad back making up the majority of my vision. I had no view ahead.

The priest was not present, and he hadn’t appeared last night. Had my hindbrain known what would transpire? My trepidation had been apparent, and his lack of presence should have hinted at what would inevitably be a failure. He had only ever quietly reveled in my success. Perhaps I should have followed my instincts and told the Sergeant of my fears. I quickly brushed away that thought. It had already happened, and regret had no place in my pool of emotion. I could only accept what had happened and endure what was to come.

I will never accept defeat, and the mission comes before my life.

The mantra repeated as we entered a large room, and I found my three comrades kneeling on the floor in a line. Rough hands shoved me down to join them, and my knees cracking painfully on the cement. I looked to them, hoping for any information. Only two pairs of eyes looked back, and despair was the only thing they conveyed. Each of my comrades had their own man behind them, standing with a rifle to their heads. I felt my own companion step behind me, merciless steel making its presence known.

We kneeled for what felt like hours. My body ached from the recent attack and forceful sleep, and my head started to droop from my stiff neck. Watching my sweat fall like tears, I became entranced in the steady drip. The moisture barely hit the ground before evaporating in the heat.

Heavier footsteps approached, and I looked up to watch a big man approach us. A thick beard accompanied a shaved head, and I watched as his lips twisted into a terrible impression of a smile. It did not reach his dark eyes. He came to a stop in front of us, hands crossed behind his back. As he met our eyes one by one, I just knew that he enjoyed looking down at us, his firing squad ready to blow our heads apart.

“Welcome!” The man's voice boomed in my still recovering ears, echoing off the walls. I winced as the ringing started up again. “I hope you have been treated well?”

He had a thick accent, and it only magnified his mockery of our situation. None of us responded to his rhetorical question.

“Good, good. Now, let us get to the fun part.” Gesturing to the men standing behind us, they followed his orders and hauled us up. We were each led to a corner of the parking garage-like room, where a desk and two chairs waited. I was pushed down into one chair, my watchdog tying down my legs. Walking off to the side, he assumed position, and the waiting began again. The dull walls were my only scenery.

It was not long before Isaac, one of the men in my unit, started screaming. I couldn’t hear any speaking, as the room was too large, but his voice bounced around the room in between sparse intervals. Isaac’s chair scraped against the floor as I assumed he bucked in it, trying to get away from whatever was causing him to screech.

The screaming stopped, and Isaac’s harsh breathing and hoarse voice told me all I needed to know.

The other two gave their performance not long after. Selley was quieter, harsh groans and the occasional yell persisting far longer than either Isaac or James. Then, it was my turn.

The bald man eyed me slyly as he approached, wiping his bloody hands on an already dirty cloth. Meeting his gaze, I watched as his eyes squinted down at me before he took the seat across the table.

“Number four. What a pleasure to meet you.” I only kept watching him. “What, no greetings in return?” he chuckled.

“I thought greetings were already said.”

“Hmm, you might be right.” He rubbed his hands together before holding his right out to one of his subordinates. “Let's get started then.”

Pliers were placed into his hands along with a small hedge clipper and several tools that tapered into thin points. I could only gaze at them and contemplate the inevitable. My hands were released from behind me and placed on the table. No time given to me to appreciate the stretch in my sore shoulders, and wince at the needles in my hands.

The man leaned in covertly, like he was about to share a secret. “Did you hear the screams?” I leaned in, playing along. It was that, or either yell and rage and get myself killed. Our faces were closer than they had ever been, and I could see the pores in his large nose. His eyes were too big for his face, but they narrowed towards the center.

“Did you?” I asked. The words came unscripted from my mouth, and even I wondered at what I hoped to achieve. Maybe delay the assured torment?

He looked puzzled, for a moment, before regaining his advantage. “I sure did.” His grin turned salacious. “And it was music to my ears.”

He grabbed my wrist, and the grimy, coarse hand made me flinch unbiddenly.

“Now, I’m going to ask you a few questions. I want you to remember them, yes?” He spoke as if speaking to a child, and I felt no need to respond. “Good.”

He took the needle-like tool and abruptly shoved it under my nail. A compulsory scream left me, and he wiggled it in time with my cries. Flashes of pain shot up my arm, making it convulse.

“Where are your bases located, four? What were your plans last night? How did you know where to look? Who are your informants?” He shot off the questions rapid-fire, his voice calm and steady, not at all matching his actions.

The pain seemed to go on and on as he ripped my nails off and dug sharp points into my skin. I could only watch as blood slowly seeped out of one wound, yet practically burst out as I lost another nail. The red was fascinating as it covered my dirty skin and the old table. It was almost shocking when the nerves flaring in warning in my hand suddenly quieted.

I shifted my dazed eyes to look back at my abuser.

“Do you care to answer?” Through my blurry eyes, I held his gaze. His eyebrows furrowed and his top lip curled, the first sign of any negative emotion on his ugly face. I wanted to spit on it and regretted not doing so when I’d had the chance.

His chair screeched against the floor as he stood abruptly, walking away.

“Take them back.” His voice rang through the room, and his dogs were quick to follow orders.

As I was dragged back to my cell, watching blood drip a trail on the floor, I could only think that this had been informative. With those types of questions, I could only assume that last night, we had gotten too close to something too important to the Taliban. If that wasn't the case, the sudden attack in a relatively peaceful place didn't really make sense.

I still didn't understand the radio silence from the sergeant, and I wondered if he had left us on orders from higher up or to save his own ass. Otherwise, he had been taken or attacked as well, and I wasn't positive that had happened. The normal soldiers in my unit weren’t told anything, or at least I assumed so, as I wasn’t given any information.

I was shoved back into my cell, hands tied in front this time. Blood from my hands sluggishly soaked my pants as I slid down the wall to sit. What did Isaac tell them? I could only guess what information he might have.

Closing my eyes, I tried to soothe the dull ache in my head. There was no telling what our captors had planned for us next, so I chose not to think about it.

They let me use a crude bathroom later in the day and gave me a flask of dirty water to drink from. As I watched the light fade from my window, I could only think how surreal it all felt. About thirty-six hours ago, I had been back at camp, with no idea what was to come.