![]() Vera was taken out of the office, one guard on each side firmly grasping her upper arm while a third led the way to a staircase that took them down one flight. The Colonel did not bother asking any more questions. She did not come close to blurting out anything, and simply shook her head "no." "Who are the members of your cell," the Colonel shouted at her. Vera awoke with a cry, bleeding from the lip where the guards backhand had caught her. He let her sleep for five minutes, and then nodded to one of the guards who woke her by slapping her smartly across the face. The Colonel said nothing, just stared at her and watched her head begin to loll forward. In between she remained in the office on her feet. She had been forced to stand at attention for the previous six grueling interrogation sessions, each of which lasted between two and three hours. It was the first time she had been allowed to sit since her incarceration. Perhaps seated is the wrong word collapsed might fit her condition better. Now she was seated across from the Colonel in charge of interrogation of suspected revolutionists. If she closed her eyes and appeared to be dozing, he immediately woke her with a shout or sharp slap or a dowsing of cold water. ![]() The cell door was left open with a guard stationed directly outside. Four times a guard gave her thick liquid nourishment to drink through a straw, sort of a cross between cold soup and a milk shake. Vera was left to suffer in that position for more than two days. As a final touch, a thin cord was tied around her long hair and fastened to the chain, pulling her head back and arching her throat. As her arms were pulled up behind her back forcing her to rise to the balls of her feet and her body was bent forward until it was almost parallel with the floor. One of her guards turned a crank on the far wall and the chain rose, pulling her wrists with it. Her wrists were bound to a chain that hung from the ceiling. They did not care whether they were seen in fact they made their arrests quite publicly, hoping the power of the state would be on display as a discouragement to others.Īfter being stripped, searched and given the prison garb to wear, her wrists were cuffed behind her and she was led to a cell. She was handcuffed, gagged and a black bag pulled over her head in nothing flat, and then led out of the apartment building, squirming in the grasp of two of the men who held her by the biceps. There were four of them and they made quick work of disabling her. The door had not even finished closing when a hand went over her mouth and she was pinned against the wall. The secret police had been waiting inside her apartment, and had grabbed her the minute she walked in. It had been almost 72 hours since her seizure, although she had no idea as to how much time had actually passed. Vera was keenly aware of her helplessness. Two others stood less than a meter to either side. She was in no way fettered to the chair but a guard stood directly behind her, ready to push her back in the seat if she tried to rise. ![]() She was barefoot and her wrists were tightly manacled behind her back. ![]() Her long black hair hung loosely about her slender neck and shoulders. She was dressed in a cotton prison dress, a gray shift that was draped over her shoulders and fell to a point high above the knees. It only had room, albeit comfortably, for a medium sized desk, one book case, two file cabinets and three wooden chairs. The office was a smaller than one would expect for a full colonel. ![]()
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