“First name, last name, date of birth.”
The interrogator kept asking the same question over and over again like a broken record but the hispanic stayed silent. He refused to say anything he wanted to do what he could to protect his brotherhood. He just hung his head down so that his chin rested on his chest and he was slouching like a hunchback. His body was sore and ached from all places from fighting that young man and from being stuck under the crushing pole. Even though he could fight, his body was not the same as when he was young.
“First name, last name, date of birth”
Darkness had continued clouding the hispanic’s mind from all the events that had happened ever since he woke up from the pressing weight of the wooden pole. The interrogator kept probing him with the same question, he was getting really annoying. It wasn’t that easy to tell him everything starting with his name. He wanted to keep the code of the brotherhood which stated that if a member was caught or arrested by police, they could never return to the organization and they had to lie if the police asked anything. This was a way to protect the brotherhood. If one were to break this code and the other members found out, that member would be a huge disgrace to himself. It seemed that even though you were not to return to the organization, you were still a part of them.
“First name, last name, and date of birth.”
If only his interrogator would just shut up and stop causing more tension and pressure to his personal dilemma. If the hispanic could do one thing to please his brothers he could at least keep his mouth shut; then again, no matter how hard he tried he could never please his fellow brothers[i]. He could just give up his allegiance and help the police find the brotherhood. They never cared much about him and he could never please them anyway. He could fight, he was skilled with blades, he was intelligent but he could not keep a secret or be a good liar; in the brotherhood, the arts of lying, maipulation, and deception were important for luring victims. No matter what he did to serve his organization, even if he gave his best, his superiors were never satisfied. However, the brotherhood had taken him in, gave him lessons in fighting, gave him shelter, and fed him. He could not just betray them like this.
He remembered how many times his superiors told him that he could never survive the world if they had not taught him, provided his basic needs, and gave him a job in the brotherhood. He knew they had used this an excuse to make him do what they wanted him to do. He was a forty-year-old man, he could manage to survive this world on his own without the brotherhood. He could leave his old life of crime behind and start a new life by finding a new job and starting his own family; doing this, he could walk the first steps for the first time in his life to what most people called a “normal life”. Unfortunately, if the brotherhood found out that he had betrayed his loyalty and walked away alive, he would be assassinated. Guilt clashed with his new surge of hope; he couldn’t betray his brothers because they were almost like his family.
“Sir, how many times must I ask you?” repeated the interrogator tiredly for what seemed like the hundredth time “Tell me your first name, last name, and date of birth. I know you are the victim here so please tell me so we can help you.”
He didn’t care anymore, he was renouncing his loyalty and vows.
“Ronaldo Suarez,” he finally answered “but my brothers in my brotherhood called me Armando.”
The interrogator was finally satisfied but as he was going to ask another question, Ronaldo Suarez interrupted him.
“I am, well, since I am renouncing my allegiance of my brotherhood,” he continued “I was a member of the mercenary brotherhood by the name of ‘Blades and Bullets’ I don’t know much about it because I was not in the highest ranks of the brotherhood; however, I will tell you all I know. The organization, they kidnap, they kill, they make more money off of the people they kidnap. They do not make their money off of the people through pornography, drugs, murder but by another way. Though the hostages do dirty work, they are not aware of it.
“My fellow brothers and I were sent to hijack the train, take most passengers hostage and leave some passengers behind, I do not know why we have been sent to do this but we just did what we had to do. After we took most of the passengers, I was chosen to guard the bomb that was in the train, never let anyone near it, and to kill anyone that tried to disable it; I accepted my mission proudly to serve my brotherhood but now I don’t want to be a part of it anymore. The people you accuse of being aggressors are not deserving of jail and they are innocent.”
The interrogator was surprised and looked like he had never heard of such a thing. His face expressed disbelief. He took out his pen and started writing on his notepad and clipboard that was on his desk. He didn’t say anything to him for a few minutes and after he finished writing he stared at the ceiling, pondering.
“Mr. Suarez,” said the interrogator “by any chance, were you asked or forced to say this by those young men and women? “
“It took you a very long time to speak sir. Perhaps they asked you to lie for them?”
“Do you have any emotional bond towards them?”
“Where they nice to you?”
“No, and I was not very nice to them either.”
“I understand,” said the interrogator. He scribbled some notes down on his notepad and then he left the room for half an hour. It felt like a very long time for Ronaldo Suarez buthe was patient. When the interrogator came back he sat down and folded his hands before calmly speaking to Ronaldo Suarez. “Mr. Suarez you do sound like you are telling the truth however, you behave like you were …victimized. I have scheduled an appointment for you tomorrow for a psychologist because I do not know if you have Stockholm Syndrome. For now, we have assigned a room for you to stay in for the night. This interrogation is finished.”
The interrogator scribbled some finals notes into his notepad and clipboard; when he finished, he got up and escorted Ronaldo Suarez out of the room. Even though Ronaldo Suarez told what he knew to the interrogator, he still looked distraught.
The room that Ronaldo Suarez was assigned to for the night was beige and empty, let alone a locked door, a glass window that stared out into the hallway, a creaky bed, a dirty toilet, and a rusty sink. He had no idea what time it was but he knew that it must have been hours since he last saw the interrogator and the police escort him to this room. This room made him feel even more depressed than ever. Ever since he came here, demons and angels had been clashing and fighting inside him . How he wished he could have just not been chosen to blow up the train! He had one job, it was one of the easiest jobs that he could do to please his superiors but he screwed up.
He felt so guilty over exposing his brotherhood because he had belonged to that brotherhood for half of his life. Also, they had raised him like a child by teaching him skills, sheltering him, and feeding him. After all they had done for him, he betrayed them. But he also wanted to blurt everything out because they never gave him love and were never satisfied with him; he wanted to start a normal life, he wanted a family of his own and to get away from crime. He didn’t want to run away from crime because he felt guilt but because he wanted to be “normal”.
“Committing crime is a terrible deed” but he hadn’t remembered the last time he had felt guilt over committing one; it had been such a long time ago. Crime had been his life since the age of thirteen when he joined a gang. He remembered that eventually he had done so much wrong that he stopped feeling guilty and stopped caring. He remember that he left his gang when he turned eighteen because many of the gang members had been getting caught by police and he had to leave them.
The gang was his family and all his gang members were his brothers, his family was being split apart by the police; each gang member would get caught and sent to a different or the same prison.His biological family was composed of abusive parents that refused to give him love and rejected him so he had to look for that love and sense of belonging elsewhere. Because the gang was splitting apart, he felt that the family bond had died. He didn’t want to go to prison and be put in a prison with a rival or enemy gang that would beat him to a pulp so he had left the gang.
One night, he got kidnapped by “Blades and Bullets”, they gave him two choices to join the mercenary brotherhood or to be handed over to the Great Boss. He chose to be in the brotherhood because he wanted a new sense of belonging, a new job that would pay a lot, and something to completely fill in that void of being rejected. In the gang he once was in, he was looked down upon but he had no idea why. All of these were fulfilled except for the last part. Since then life has been like that. All his life he had been seeking love and acceptance but he never got any.
If he helped the police or became a police officer, how did he know that the other officers would not look down upon because he had once been a criminal? How did he know if he could ever find a wife? If he did, how did he know she would not leave on him after she found out that he used to be a criminal? Or his children would be born into the same life that he was born into? How did he know if he could love them if he never felt loved? What was love? He didn’t see any bright light in the future ahead of him. No matter what choice he made, it would lead to another dark path.
He was going to pull the plug.
He stood up from the bed and took a long deep breath. He took off his suit jacket and laid it on the bed; he felt around and all over his white long-sleeved shirt, tie and pants until he felt it. He slowly untied his black, velvet tie and at the tip of the tie, he pulled at the stitches. It wasn’t easy and it took some time but he pulled and pulled at the stitches and fabric until finally the two fabrics came apart. The tie was open and inside the hole, he groped for a pocket; when he found the pocket, he took out something long and cold. He pulled it out of the tie and it came out glimmering from the dim light in the hallway. It was a blade. It had a silver handle and was half as long as his tie.
He threw the tie aside and stared at the blade. He examined it and admired its shining glint. Did he really want to do this? Yes; he even hated himself. He slowly put the blade near his throat and hovered it near the large vein near his Adam’s Apple.
“Envié a muchas personas a otro lugar, otra dimensión. Ahora voy a unirse a ellos”.[ii]
And the end came for him.
Japanese-English Translation of conversation:
Polish-Translation of Note:
\[i] “I am a dragon. Just like the dragon of Wawel, I am always hungry but I am never satisfied. I abduct and I eat a lot of cows. When my parter will hatch eggs and the eggs will be hatched, hatchlings will be made. My partner, my hatchlings, and I will rule over the cows together. I am a dragon but I am not the dragon of Wawel.”
The word “Smok” literally means dragon.
[i] by brothers, the hispanic does not mean brothers as in relatives but his fellow members of the brotherhood.
[ii] The game „Slender” actually exists in real life and you can download it for free online. The game came out in June 2012; later that year and the next, it became a popular online game. There is a sequel to the game “Slender:The Arrival” (which came out in March 2013) but you have to pay for it. Eventually, the game lost it popularity and everyone forgot about it.