The Box

            I was employed by the American government as a member of its core intelligence agency, the CIA before I blew the whistle on a new overreach by the government that was happening behind the scenes.  The government had been expanding on surveillance towards the populace for decades, but this was a new level of cruel and unusual form of punishment that was being enacted on those who spoke out against the government.  The laws surrounding the Patriot Act and expansions to the Patriot Act ended up leading to numerous people who were trying to call out government overreach being arrested for espionage and placed in a new form of solitary confinement.  However, instead of being left alone by yourself in a white room, you were placed into a room that had minor furnishings along with another person.  You both were meant to keep each other company and forced to live your experience out with one another, using the same toilet and eating food brought on the same plate.  It was a new form of overreach and punishment that was being saved specifically for those who were deemed guilty of violating the newest expansions on the Patriot Act, and that’s exactly where I ended up.

            Those who were in the know on this new form of punishment referred to it as “The Box”.  It was the perfect form of punishment for those who had truly offended those in the government the most who weren’t outright dangers to society themselves.  If they were deemed a threat by the government but were not a threat to themselves or to others, they were placed into one of these rooms with someone else with no privacy and forced to live out their existence with that person for an undisclosed amount of time.  For those who committed espionage, the charges were left vague and undefined, as part of a law that came years later that allowed for federal crimes of espionage and the like to not bear fixed sentences.  This gave the federal government more power and leverage to keep its critics silent, which is exactly why I took the risk and “blew the whistle” on the American government.

            I was given little time and the warrant for my arrest was sent out days before I was due to be brought in.  I had little time to try and escape towards safety and found myself being captured by police as I tried to board a flight to Russia.  It was one of the few places that tried to offer me asylum.  It was too late once they had me in the back of a police cruiser.  I knew that I was done for.  I just didn’t realize how bad things would truly be.  I was tried and convicted without a jury and was immediately sent into “The Box” and was left alone for what felt like a week.  They simulated a day and night cycle with a single light bulb at the top of the room.  There was one toilet, one couch, one wooden chair, a coffee table, two beds, and a door that only opened from one way.  The project was meant to emulate the experience of Jean-Paul Sartre’s play, “No Exit”.  How sickening is it that my favorite play ever was turned into a torture device that would be used against me?  The irony isn’t lost on me.  In fact, the irony is potent enough to poison one’s self.  If only escape from this room were as simple as slipping some poison down my throat.  It was going to take violent means for me to be able to escape. 

            A man in his early 30s was brought in to spend his sentence with me.  It was meant to be the perfect pairing, a pairing designed for us to fall in and out of love and to resent one another until we could no longer take it.  It was designed to break us, to torture us, to make us less than we truly were.  “The Box” was no longer a concept that I read about in correspondences.  The Box became my reality, and I was intangibly a part of it until I did something drastic.  And it seemed like drastic measures would come sooner than later.  The man’s name was Michael.  I read about him while I was with the CIA.  He had blown the whistle on war crimes that we were committing out in the Middle East to try and raise concern to the American public over the endless wars.  After we went back into the Middle East to fight again, information quickly started to come forth of the war crimes and atrocities that were being committed on our orders.  I wanted to blow the whistle on that first, but he beat me to the punch, kind of like how he beat me to the punch when we first started to fight. 

            “So, you’re my new Box-mate, huh?  Better get comfortable.  I always go first.”

            I wasn’t sure what he meant by that until dinner arrived.  He immediately rushed to try and eat all of the food that was on the plate.  I had to shove him out of the way so that I could try to grab a chicken leg, only for him to punch me in the side of my face and to consume the rest of the food like a savage animal.  There were forks and napkins provided, but he used neither.  He preferred to look and feel like a slob.  Whatever his time in The Box had done to him had done a number on his psyche.  He went and sat down in his bed with grease on his face, content to lick his fingers in triumph.  My stomach began to growl as I grew frustrated with my situation.  I wanted to hurt this man. I wanted him to pay for what he just did to me, but I had a feeling that it would be better to wait.  “Huh?  Not even putting up a fight.  Disappointing.  I would have thought that you would have put up more of a fight for someone who got thrown in The Box.”

            I could only ask one thing.  “Why are you treating me this way?” 

            Michael laughed and stared at me for a moment blankly before he replied.  “You know what they do to you in these boxes, right?  These are torture devices.  If you don’t cave, you end up dead or at a standstill with the other person.  I’m choosing not to cave.  I won’t let them keep me in the box forever.  They can’t.”

            I was unsure of what he meant by that.  “What do you mean they can’t keep you in The Box?  We’re in here for life.”

            “That’s exactly what they want you to think.  See the corners of those rooms?” Michael pointed to the corners where cameras were supposed to be.  “They’re able to watch us from all corners of the room from cameras that are beyond those walls.  They can see what we’re doing and will come to break us up if something too drastic happens.”  He paused and then let out a big laugh.  “Too bad I usually take out the other person by then.”

            Now it was becoming clear what Michael had in mind.  I was lied to when the information came in about The Box.  These rooms weren’t made for us to live in and torture each other forever.  They were made for us to tear each other apart.  It’s clear that they got to Michael and were going to wait until one of us gave in.  They wanted him to let loose his anger, his frustration onto me.  He was their killing machine and sent him in to do their dirty work.  I asked him the big question.

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

            He looked over at me while lying down in his bed and listed out his reasons.  “There’s three reasons why I want to wait.  1. They remove me from the room and place me in regular solitary confinement when it happens to clean it up.  2. They give you better food in these rooms.  3. I like to have a bit of fun with my prey.”

            He licked his lips after he said that last part.  Right as he finished up stating his plan, the light went off.  In a flash, Michael was up and was on top of me, his hands gripped firmly around my throat.  “What are you going to do, huh?  Fight back?  You can’t do that.  You’re just a weak woman who’s worked a desk job.  You’re not strong enough to fight me.”  Right as I was about to black out, I flipped my leg upward and kicked him behind his head.  It sent both of us tumbling out of my bed and sent him scrambling back over to his side of the room.  Officers covered in armor rushed into the room right after, batons in hand, yelling at us to get into bed.  “Stay where you are!  Get back in your bed or we will use force!”

            Michael laughed as he crawled back into bed.  “Don’t worry!  There’s nothing wrong here, officers!  She’s got too much life in her!”

            The officer struck Michael with the baton.  “Keep your mouth shut!”

            The guards left the room and shut the door behind them.  I slowly began to get air back into my lungs after that attack.  It was clear that I couldn’t let this go one another night.  Michael seemed to fall asleep right after that.  I reluctantly fell asleep while facing out towards Michael.  The next day, I woke up with Michael towering over me.  “Greetings, roomie!”  He had no pants on and had his member hanging right in front of me.  He was unashamed of being a brute and a pig.  “Don’t be shy now!  If you want a taste, all you have to do is reach out!”  I shoved him away and looked away. 

            “I’m not going to face you while you have your pants off!  Put them on!”

            He laughed hard at that comment.  “Oh, I don’t think you understand this, missy!  See, when I get placed into a room, I’m the one in charge!”  He slapped me and sent me flying out of the bed.  “Don’t worry, I’ll have my fun with you soon.  You’ll have no choice.”

            I turned pale at that last comment.  Assault and sexual harassment weren’t enough for this man.  He had full intent to rape and kill me for his own sick pleasure.  He gave me a sickening smile as food was brought into the room.  A hole in the bottom of the floor beneath the table brought food up to the room.  Michael pointed his finger at me and then pointed at the plate.  “Time for my breakfast.”  He started gorging himself on the food like he did the night before.  This time, I didn’t hesitate to act.  I didn’t reach for the food itself.  I grabbed the fork that was set beside the plate.  Before Michael realized what was happening, I was on top of him, stabbing him in his eyes.  His screams made me wince, but I knew what I had to do.  I had to keep up the onslaught.  He flailed beneath the stabs, but it was enough to overwhelm him.  I drove the metal fork deep into his left eye socket, hoping that I would puncture through the weak bones beneath his eyelid.  After a bit of squirming and fighting, I struck his brain.  His body went stiff for a second and then went limp.  I struck a nerve and it appeared to have been fatal.

            The officers came in and overwhelmed me.  They dragged me out of the room and took me into a nearby holding cell.  They sent what looked like medical staff to try and attend to Michael.  It was too late for him.  I did what had to be done.  I waited in there for what felt like hours while multiple staff members made their way to the room, most likely to clean it up.  After a while, a female officer came by with a change of clothes.  “Come on, I’m going to help you get cleaned up.  Let’s head to the showers.”  I followed her to the showers and got myself cleaned up.  I changed into the new uniform that she had for me.  After I finished changing out of the old bloody clothes that I had on and finished cleaning up, she brought me back to the room.  On the top of the table was a plate full of food.  She smiled at me and shut the door again, closing me in.  The only difference this time is that I was alone for good. 

            While I was stuck inside The Box again, this time I was happy to be alone.  I received decent food regularly and got to sit there in silence with nothing happening.  A few hours after I finished eating, I saw that there was a piece of paper left in the pocket of my uniform, along with a pen.  It seemed like this officer wanted me to detail what was happening to me in here, or at least that’s what I tell myself.  Only time will tell.  I decided to start writing down my experience inside The Box.  Maybe I’ll write more about my experiences inside of The Box.  For now, I’ll leave this note in my pocket once I finish writing this.  What I can say for now is this; while Michael did deserve what happened to him, I can’t help but feel like I liked killing him maybe a little too much.  One thing is for certain, The Box changes you and once you go in, you’re never the same.