literature

Benji - Edited

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Benji
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One of the lights was dying. Watching his own shadow stretch and shrink every three seconds, Gregory wondered why no-one had fixed the problem yet. He'd reported it last week. It was like the muscle twitches he got in his lower back, just out of reach and without immediate cure. He stood, hands by his side and eyes distant, as his assistant fiddled with the complex set of locks that barred the door in front of them.

The walls of the Smith McGregor House were not sound-proofed. It was a deliberate move on the part of the late owner, so that any problems with its residents could be found and dealt with quickly. The House had never been used for its true purpose – the war had begun long before any of the mentally challenged could be moved in – but two years later still found the walls tattered and the carpet thin and sunken. Wiry bed-frames had taken the place of the cosy furniture originally installed, and the common room had been completely stripped. Leaking pipes and cracks in the wall had taken the place of television-sets and sofas.

Gregory was a practical man. Tall enough, he kept his hair at fifty-two despite the heavy peppering of grey at his temples. He didn't wear glasses, just a set of heavy eye-bags underneath his dark eyes. The ebb in the war had brought him little rest: they had kept the prisoners here, holed up in these tiny rooms, and he'd have to see every one of them tried or moved into the overcrowded jails up north before he could really relax. Only a handful remained now, so long after the main coup, just the few who were considered worth the time and money to keep handy for questioning.

A hiss, a snap and a short sigh from his assistant swung the cell-door inwards, letting a sharp shaft of light fall across the man inside. Gregory closed his eyes for a moment, pressing thumb and forefinger gently into the sockets to relax him for what was coming. Prisoner Benjamin Gilles, number 293. He wasn't worth the time or money, in Gregory's opinion. Were it his choice, the other man would have been executed a year ago, no matter how important he might have been. Benjamin hadn't uttered a word since he'd been shoved into that room two years ago, treating all questions with a stony silence or, on occasion, a smug, satisfied smile. It hardly earned him the two meals a day he was given. Solitary confinement had done little to loosen his tongue. Unable to be rid of him, Gregory visited once a month with his questions, and left things at that.

"You know the drill, Benji." The attempt to be personal via nickname was lost in Gregory's tone: he was wasting his time, and he showed it. The quiet scratching of the assistant's pen did little to lighten the mood. "We want you to talk, and you have no idea how tempted we are to just close this door and forget all about you."

It was a lie. Benjamin knew it, and the corner of his mouth quirked into a crooked smile. The assistant noted it down, but Gregory pressed on. "We know you know something. Plans, allies... why it hasn't stopped yet. You know we'll pay well for it, too."

Not once in two years had Benjamin reacted under questioning, save to smile. Today, though, his shoulder's shook. Gregory glanced over at the assistant triumphantly, only to see the woman ignoring him in favour of watching Benjamin. No matter, he was finally getting through to him.

"There's only one way out of here, Benji, and you know it. Aren't you sick of sitting here in the dark? There's nothing for you to lose now."

He took a calculated pause. It would appear that he was thinking, perhaps exasperated at his charge, when really he was giving Benjamin the time to think. Two-years in a dark room, and the man had yet to crack. It had to come soon. Watching the prisoner out of the corner of his eye, though, Gregory suddenly realised that Benjamin wasn't shaking out of withheld emotion, or from tears. No, the man was laughing, laughing, Thin arms remained wrapped around his waist but Gregory still took a step or two backwards as the prisoner slowly raised his head, grey eyes catching the light.

"Oh yes, keep thinking she's dead." The words were squeezed through a giggle, the voice raspy from disuse, and the right side of Benjamin's mouth twitched higher than the left. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, for her to be dead and all this to just stop. Oh but she's not, she's not, and you'll never find her."

The last few words were said in a taunting lilt, before the giggles took over once again and Gregory looked away in disgust. Who could have guessed the man before him was once, years ago, one of the most feared in the country. It was disappointing; in silence, at least, the man still appeared sane.

"He's useless. Leave him here." The assistant, who'd been jotting down notes gave him a mildly curious look from under her rectangular glasses.

"But sir, he's talking, and he hasn't in – "

"It's nothing of importance." Gregory's heels snapped against the lino floor as he walked out, simply assuming everything would be put back in its proper place without him.

A soft sigh escaped heavily painted lips as the assistant flipped her notebook shut, checked her watch, and decided she deserved an early lunch break. With practised ease she ignored Benji's giggles and mutters as she cleaned her glasses off and slid them back onto her nose. As far as she was concerned the mad-man might as well have been some broken piece of equipment, only of interest as long as it could be fixed. Benjamin wasn't fixable now. It took no codes to re-lock the door but she didn't want to be blamed if the crazy guy got loose. She always watched the doors close and lock before leaving, and today was no exception. The last lock slid shut with a hiss, and she turned to go, only to stop in her tracks. Benjamin wasn't laughing. The hallway was silent.

The hall light above no longer flickered.
Originally uploaded: August 6th, 2008
Re-done and uploaded: October 19th, 2009

Well, it's finally gotten to be part of a bigger story. Which I'm not putting up yet, actually, but I figured since you have the prologue already, I may as well give you an updated version of it. XD

Same deal, slightly better writing (I hope?).

Redone for my honour's Geneologies of Place class.
© 2008 - 2024 VyvianLee
Comments3
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leylageeker's avatar
Eee! I loved it! Definitely a bit different than your usual plots. x3 <3

"Maybe a smoke, if she could bring herself too. "
Typo? It reads funny to me.