A straw touched her lips and she took it into her mouth. She pulled cool water, swallowing as much as she could before it was withdrawn.

“Better?”

“My daughters.”

“You are concerned for them, as you should be. They are unharmed. For now.”

“Please don’t hurt them. Please, I’ll do anything you ask. Anything.”

He leaned in close and whispered, “Yes, I know you will.” Then he stood erect. “My name is Colonel Montez de Oca, and over the next few days we’re going to become close friends.”

She felt a clank-like jolt from under the table. The next thing she felt was the entire table being tilted upright. It stopped at a 45-degree angle and another clank locked it in place. The video camera’s lens loomed large and black. Then the hideous squealing of wheels started again. A table came into view, draped by a white sheet marred with brown stains. Dried blood? She closed her eyes and willed herself to wake up.

This can’t be happening.

Half of the table held all kinds of surgical instruments in neat rows, the other half hosted household tools. Pliers. Tin snips. Vice grips. Chisels. Wood files. An ice pick. Her eyes locked onto the box of condoms. Tears began flowing again and she hated herself for being weak. How could this be happening? Why was she here? She didn’t know anything. She tried to recall anything she’d heard that could be considered secret.

He stepped into the light and reached toward her.

She flinched and tried to withdraw.

Smiling, he slipped his hand under the table and unlatched something. She watched in horror as a stirrup locked into place. He grabbed her ankle in a firm, painful grip and unbound her leg with his free hand. He forced her foot into the stirrup, and rebound her ankle to the heel of the stirrup with a thick leather strap. He repeated the process on her left leg. Next, he swiveled her bent legs out from the table and locked the stirrups in place. She ended up in a horrifying position, completely open and vulnerable.

Oh no. Please no, not this.

“Shall we begin?” He made a mock frown. “I’m afraid I forgot to bring flowers.”

She couldn’t stop crying. She was about to be tortured for information she didn’t have. It was so unfair. So brutally unfair. A sickening wave of nausea overpowered her. She turned her head just in time. Some of the vomit remained on her chest.