Torture?

Little girl – Ahude

Terrorist – Salim

Human rights activist – Miss Hortsright

Interrogator – Me

            Silence filled the room. Nothing could be heard except for the small whimpering from Ahude and the small hissing sound from the lighter in Agent Wells’ hand.  Ahude, strapped to a chair, wearing a yellow dress with pick flowers, and eyes wide with fear, frantically shifts her focus from her father, sitting half a room away, also strapped to a chair, to the flame inching closer to her delicate skin.

“Daddy?” Ahude called out to her father. She remembered all too well how it felt to be burnt. The kitchen stove top taught her that a few years ago. She never wanted to feel that again.

“Don’t you touch her!” Salim pleadingly demanded never taking his eyes off the flame.

“Tell us where it is Salim and this all ends here,” Agent Wells offered. The flame had heated the small ignition wheel on the lighter and his thumb was beginning to burn. At that, Salim launched a wad of spit across the room landing on the pant leg of Agent Wells. With a reluctant sigh, Agent Wells said, “So be it.” He then put the flame under Ahude’s wiggling hand waving it back and forth under her palm. Ahude began to struggle, trying to free herself to get as far away from the fire as she could. However, the straps held tight and her struggle was to no avail. The flame hurt, she could feel her hand heating up rapidly, beginning to blister.

            Tears start to well up and Ahude begins to cry, wanting to scream out in pain but her father had always taught her not to show pain. She grits her teeth so hard that her jaw begins to hurt.

“C’mon Salim, this can only get worse!” Agent Wells shouted, tears beginning to well up in his eyes as he begins to smell burning flesh.

Ahude lets out a small cry. “Daddy!!” Her tears stream down her face and onto her pretty yellow dress. Strands of her long dark hair stick to her tear soaked face. “Daddy! Make him stop!”

What am I doing? I can’t continue this, thought Agent Wells to himself. Just as Agent Wells was about to pull the flame away, Salim, through exasperated sobs, said, “Alright! Alright. I’ll tell you everything. Anything you want to know. Just please, don’t hurt her anymore.” Salim bowed his head dejectedly, sobbing with tears falling to his chest. “I’ll tell you everything.”

Agent Wells let the flame die out, recognizing the burn on his thumb, but acknowledging that it was no where nearly as bad as the burn on Ahude’s hand. He unstrapped Ahude and led her out the door to the paramedics.

“Give her some pain meds, bandage that up,” Agent Wells directed. Just as he was about to turn to walk back in the room with Salim, Miss Hortsright called out his name walking briskly to him from down the hall.

“An innocent child?!” Miss Hortsright demanded. “You tortured an innocent child Agent Wells! You’re a monster! I hope you rot.”

“Her hand will now be the most famous hand in American history,” Agent Wells calmly replied.

“Humph!”

“But you’re right. I am a monster. I’m going to know that for the rest of my life. But if you will excuse me, I have to retrieve the information that will save thousands.”

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Was it wrong to go through with the torture? Yes, I would have to say it was wrong. But a better question would be, was it necessary? And to that, I also answer yes.