The permafrost of our souls

They called it “The Elephant.” Kara guessed why they’d chosen that name for this torture—after a while, the stone lying on your back really did feel like an elephant’s foot trying to crush your spine. Kara, her cheek pressed to the floor, felt the concrete grit embedding deeper and deeper into her skin, becoming part of it. She didn’t know how long she’d been in this room, but she knew it was more than a couple of days. Kuntze had used other tortures on her, trying to rid the prisoner of such a flaw as fear, but so far had only instilled in her an obedience that with each minute was turning into total inaction. “Remove it,” the command, thrown at her like a dog, grated on Kara’s ears, forcing her to open her eyes. It had been so long since she’d heard anyone’s voice, but she wouldn’t have minded never hearing this man’s for a thousand more years. As soon as the stone crashed from her back, painfully rolling over her ribs, she sat up, trying to take a deep breath, but her ribcage felt caved in. Kara ran a hand over her cheek, wiping away dust, and only then realized that the walls in the room weren’t just white all this time—they were white tile. She smirked at the practicality as the spotlights switched on. When her eyes stopped burning from the bright light, she finally raised her head to look at Kuntze, who stood behind the lamps near the door, watching the girl like a bug under a microscope. Slightly ahead stood the Winter Soldier, his metal arm glowing from the beams, casting sharp reflections on the opposite wall. “Go on,” Kuntze commanded, and the man moved toward Kara, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. He raised his arm, and she dropped her gaze, trying to detach from what was happening. The second blow followed almost immediately, knocking the wind out of her, but Kara, stretching out her legs, leaned back against the cold wall, allowing him to carry out the order. She would be okay, but the Soldier, who was on the other side of the system, could suffer more. “Enough,” Kuntze stopped him when Kara involuntarily pulled her leg to her chest, trying to protect herself. He moved closer, seeing the jumpsuit over her stomach turning red. “Why didn’t you defend yourself?” “Was I allowed to?” This question, thoughtlessly escaping along with the air from Kara’s mouth, revealed what she had been trying to hide. She was broken, crushed by their manipulations and tortures. The perfect prisoner, and in the future, a weapon. Instead of answering, Kuntze swung his cane, but Kara caught it by the tip, preventing the blow. Gripping the cane tightly, she stood up, using the wall for support with her other hand. Wrenching the instrument of punishment from the man’s hands, she hurled the cane into one of the spotlights, shattering the glass. The lacquered wood quickly caught fire, but the gazes of Kara and Kuntze remained locked on each other until one of the soldiers kicked the door in, holding a fire extinguisher. “Take her away,” Kuntze gave a slight, barely noticeable jerk of his chin, trying to maintain control, but Kara smirked as the Winter Soldier led her out of the room by the elbow. Their walk to the cell was silent; Kara tried to keep up with the man’s quick pace but felt the blood draining from her body. When she saw the familiar bunk, she immediately collapsed onto the sunken mattress, lying flat on her back, fighting the urge to curl on her side from the pain. “Don’t blame yourself,” she said quietly, realizing the Soldier had locked the door from the inside. “You had to do it.” “You didn’t fight back,” the man’s voice sounded slightly disappointed, but Kara also heard anxiety in it. “I know what he thinks of me now,” she coughed, unzipping her jumpsuit. “But I still have an ace up my sleeve.” “You’ve been here so long you could have used a whole deck,” he helped her sit up, lean against the rough wall. “How long?” Kara pressed the edge of the cotton blanket to the reopened seam the Soldier’s blow had caused. “Almost a year,” he answered reluctantly, pulling a sewing kit from his belt pouches. “Wow,” she wanted to take the tools, but the man pulled his hand back and sat next to her on the bunk, his weight sinking the mattress. “Did you learn sarcasm here?” “That’s from the past, probably,” he threaded a needle under the dim light, trying to see the edges of the wound where Kara had already removed the old stitches. “What are you waiting for?” “I can’t tell you,” even though Kara trusted him inside, her mind still understood he was a soldier following orders. “It will hurt,” he said, piercing the edge of her skin with the needle. Kara inhaled each time the needle pierced her skin and exhaled each time she felt the ticklish pull of the thread. She slumped her shoulders when he cut the thread with a knife and tied it off, preventing the wound from reopening. “Thanks for not hitting my face,” Kara fastened her jumpsuit with pale fingers, trying to ignore the unpleasantly clinging fabric. “Did he say not to give me food?” “He’ll issue it tomorrow. Lights out soon,” as soon as he said it, the corridor lights went out, plunging the cell into darkness. “I have to go.” “Wait,” Kara leaned forward through the pain, grabbing his wrist. “Stay a little.” “I have to go, before he suspects anything.”