A Spy Lost, A Son Gained
A Spy Lost, A Son Gained3 mins 465 3 mins 465
The pain in my wrists is nerve-wracking. Even the slightest of movement makes the rope dig deeper into my skin. My legs are tied by a chain to the rusted pole in the corner of the pitch black room. The whiplashes on my back are burning like hell. My wounds are open and untreated and I believe most of them have become infected. My clothes are torn and covered in blood. I am unable to free myself as my weapons have all been taken away from me. My health is continuously deteriorating. I have not eaten for days and I don’t think that I will do so anytime soon. Even though I know that I am going to die, I am not scared for I have achieved my goals. I have fulfilled the ultimate goal of my life: Always Protect My Country. Sometimes I reimagine my life, how it would have turned out if I had declined the offer. And even if my imagination constitutes of a carefree life, I do not regret my decision. AHHHH!!!!MY HEAD. I am currently waiting for life to be over as I cannot bear the pain anymore. My entire life starts flashing before my eyes.
I remember that I was only twenty-three years old when I was sent across the border. There were dangerous threats to my country and I was the person who was appointed as a spy and protect my nation from destruction. I was more than happy to carry out the task even though it was probable that I would die on my mission. I wanted to do something for my country, something that that would inspire people to do the same. On the 19th of December, I have transported away from my family, my friends, and my nation. I was dressed as a simple boy to prevent the suspicions from arising. I was left alone in a country where I knew no one, had bare minimum supplies, just enough for my survival.
I had to find my own dwelling in dangerous neighborhoods and always prepare myself for the worst outcome at any time. My mission was almost over and just a week before I was scheduled to return to my home, the worst thing happened. I was out on a stroll to the market when a slight wrong judgement on my part caused me my already little freedom. I was captured by the local authorities as my main motive was revealed. From there I was shipped off to the military headquarters. My captors treated me brutally. They whipped me with spikes and chains. I could have saved myself from further beating and suffering by ratting out the information of my country but I just could not do it. I belong to a country where people are taught to be loyal, always and forever. I never gave in to any of their tactics and tortures. They were finally tired and had no option but to leave me to die from the unbearable pain of my infinite wounds.
My breathing is becoming heavier by the moment. I think the time for me to take my last breath has come. I have come a long way in my life in a very short time. If only I could bid my family goodbye the very last time. Even if that is not possible, I know that I will see them again after a few years in heaven. With my very last breath, I have died a martyr.