The pain was unbearable. It clawed at her nerves to the point of overload. She writhed and twisted with the pointless hope that it would end, that she could get away. She had been screaming for hours, or maybe days or even years. She couldn’t tell anymore. Her throat was raw and aching from the strain, but it couldn’t compare to the pain in the rest of her body.
       Then suddenly, it stopped. Her screaming died down and Scitch wondered if she was dead, but there was still pain. Not as agonizing, but there. It was like stepping out of a swimming pool and into the rain. Her nerves still pricked and burned. Her body quickly went into convulsions, her muscles shuddering beyond her control. When the jerking in her limbs finally died down after several minutes, Scitch slowly opened her eyes. Sweat dripped from the defective’s forehead as she gasped to catch her long-lost breath. She squinted into the blinding light above her. She had almost forgotten what light looked like; her eyes had been squeezed shut so long.
       “Are you willing to talk yet?” hissed a cold, sneering voice. Rit’s face came into view, obstructing the dearly missed light from Scitch’s sight.
       “Never,” Scitch growled back through gasps and whimpers of pain. “Not… if you tortured me… for three weeks straight.” A thick drip of blood ran between the rebel’s teeth and down her jaw. Rit snarled and shoved a deactivated taser rod into Scitch’s face; the same one that had spent the last several hours rammed up under her ribs.
       “Are you truly willing to go through another hour of this?” he snapped.
       “If you’re stupid enough . . . to think that . . . will make me talk.”
       With a catlike snarl, Rit swung the taser and struck Scitch across the face. The pointed tip carved a deep gash from her cheekbone to just under her right eye. The rebel squeezed her eyes shut, a fresh flow of tears beginning to run down her face.
       Though she knew she wouldn’t be able to withstand this much longer, Scitch was determined not to give in. The Resistance was all she had—all she was. If she were to reveal any information to Rit, she wouldn’t have a purpose to live. It would be easier to just commit suicide.
       Scitch found her enemy towering above her as she pried open an eye. “You can’t fight forever. You’ll break eventually,” he sneered. Scitch took a breath to spit back a retort, but her lungs immediately demanded that the air be released again.
       Rit was anything but stupid. He realized that Scitch was no good for information if she couldn’t talk. He raised a hand level to his face and snapped his fingers for the guards to come and return Scitch to her cell.
       Scitch was ripped harshly from the interrogation chair and forced to her feet. When the rebel's knees folded under her, the guards resorted to lifting her under the arms and dragging her out of the room. Rit followed them down a few corridors until they stopped in front of a thick cell door. In one swift movement, they unlocked the door, threw Scitch inside, and slammed the door shut behind her before the rebel even hit the floor.
       The impact knocked the wind out of her and she sprawled out uselessly on the cold surface. Scitch’s vision was starting to steadily dim. Jexplh was at her side almost instantly, propping the defective’s head up on her knee.
       "Scitch… Talk to me. Are you alright?" Jex knew perfectly well that Scitch wasn’t alright physically. Scitch was tough, and could easily recover from her wounds. Jexplh’s true concern was the defective’s mental well-being.
       Still unable to talk, Scitch raised a shaking hand and wrapped it around Jex’s arm. It was the only way she could tell the doctor she would be okay. Jex let out a long, shaking sigh as she lifted the defective up and hugged her, indifferent to the blood running down her arms. Scitch wished she could return the sentiment, but her muscles refused to work anymore.
       Jexplh hadn’t been tortured once for information. She didn’t even sport a single cut. Scitch had the personal opinion this was because Rit had too much respect for her. Jex had a certain effect on people where they couldn’t bring themselves to do her harm. Rit would never admit that he ever had that kind of respect for a rebel, but it was there.
       After several minutes, Jex finally released Scitch and gently set her on the floor, where she could rest and regain her strength. The doctor leaned back on the nearest wall and kept vigil over her friend.
       Scitch's breathing steadily slowed to a normal rate as she began to drift over the line between unconsciousness and consciousness. Eventually, the pain and exhaustion pushed her and she lost balance, plunging her into darkness and silence.

***

       Scitch and Jexplh had been held captive for nearly two weeks. A stupid mistake on Turbulus had attracted Rit’s attention and gotten the two rebels captured. From the very first day, Rit took Scitch to the interrogation room and tortured her to unconsciousness in an attempt to get information from her. She then spent some time in the cell with Jex until she was strong enough to talk, at which point she was taken back to the interrogation room for another session of torture. That’s how it continued day after day. Scitch was determined to keep her mouth shut and simply endure the never ending pain. If Zylix could do it, so could she.

***

       Jex had been staring at the floor for an hour, keeping watch over her friend. A sudden sound of movement made her look up to find Scitch gripping her ribcage and trying to sit up.
       "Don't move," advised Jex. Scitch dropped back to the ground with a pained grunt and curled up on her side.
       After a few moments of silence between the two, Scitch finally found her voice and asked, “How long was I out this time?"
       Jexplh sighed. "I wish I could tell you. I don't think it was as long as last time though."
       “Great,” Scitch coughed.
       “How do you feel?”
       “Better than earlier.” The rebel sat up and gingerly rubbed her rib cage. Moving closer, Jex helped Scitch support herself as the Irken spat out a mouthful of blood.
       “How much more of this can you take?” Jexplh asked worriedly.
       Scitch leaned on Jex, wincing from her wounds before answering, “As much as I have to.”
       The doctor sighed and pulled Scitch into a hug, desperately hoping for help to come along.