Amina Interrogates Desmond

Desmond awoke with a start, the metal chair beneath him biting into his skin and jolting him into an unwelcome reality. The rough texture of the chair’s surface scraped against his skin, and a faint metallic tang hung in the air. His wrists and ankles throbbed where the leather straps bit into his flesh, the bindings unyielding. The distant hum of machinery underscored the oppressive silence of the dimly lit room, broken only by the faint glow of a desk lamp casting long, eerie shadows. Amina sat across from him, her posture relaxed but her gaze razor-sharp. She rested her chin on her hand, her expression warm, almost inviting.

“Good, you’re awake,” she said softly, her tone carrying a deceptive gentleness. “I thought we could have a little chat, Desmond.”

Desmond groaned, pulling at the restraints, but they held firm. “What the hell is this?” he demanded, his voice cracking. “You can’t keep me here like this!”

Amina’s smile didn’t falter. “Oh, Desmond, we both know I can. But let’s not start with hostility. Let’s talk about Nia. About Jared. About the knife.”

Desmond’s eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape that didn’t exist. “It was all Nia! She **** me into it!” he blurted out, his voice shaky. “She said she’d ruin me if I didn’t help. Jared was in on it too! They made me do it!”

Amina raised an eyebrow, her smile widening slightly as if savoring Desmond's feeble attempts at deflection. Her eyes gleamed with a cold satisfaction, a subtle reminder that she held all the power in this room. Every movement, every shift of her expression, seemed calculated to unnerve him further, her calm demeanor masking the razor-sharp edge of her control. “Nia made you smuggle **** into the facility? She made you extort the white boys, threaten their families? Did she **** you to bribe the guards too?”

Desmond flinched, sweat beading on his forehead. “Yes! Yes, it was all her idea! She said Garrett was dangerous, that he had to be stopped. She gave Jamal the knife! he helped her! I didn’t have a choice!”

Amina’s smile froze as her eyes darkened. “****?” she said, her voice dropping an octave. “You, Jamal, and Nia all made choices. Choices that hurt people. Choices that hurt my son.”

Desmond blinked, confusion and fear mixing on his face. “Your... son?” he asked hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper.

The veneer of Amina’s calm shattered like glass. Her hand lashed out, striking Desmond across the face with enough **** to leave a vivid red mark. “Yes, my son!” she hissed, her voice rising with venom, each word dripping with anger. “Garrett is my son now. Every cut, every bruise you helped inflict on him—those weren’t just wounds on him. They were wounds on me!”

She leaned closer, her face inches from his, her eyes blazing with a mix of fury and cold satisfaction. “And you’ll pay for every single one of them, Desmond.”

Desmond whimpered, recoiling from her fury. “I-I didn’t mean to... I didn’t know...He couldn´t be.....”

Amina leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. “Soon, Garrett will call me Mommy,” she whispered with a chilling intensity, her words slicing through the air like a blade. Desmond recoiled slightly, his breath hitching as the full weight of her dominance bore down on him. Her gaze sharpened, and she stepped closer, letting her shadow loom over him. “And you?” she continued, her voice dripping with venom. “You’ll know your place beneath my shoes and at his feet.” Desmond’s lip quivered, his fear palpable, as he grasped the depths of her control.”

Amina leaned forward, her voice dropping to a soft, almost maternal tone, the kind that might comfort a child but felt entirely out of place here. Beneath the soothing cadence lurked a sharp edge, a reminder that her gentleness was a mask, concealing the unrelenting **** of her authority. “Desmond, do you really expect me to believe you’re the victim here? That you didn’t profit from every deal, every bribe, every threat?”

Desmond’s desperation turned to anger. His shoulders tensed as he thrashed violently against the restraints, his movements clumsy but forceful. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of defiance glinting through the sheen of sweat on his brow. He leaned forward as much as the straps allowed, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. For a moment, his expression hardened, as if summoning a courage he didn’t truly possess, though his trembling hands betrayed the fragility of his resolve. “I’ll tell everyone! I’ll expose everything you’re doing here! You think you can scare me? I’ll ruin you all!” His voice rose, shaking with a mix of rage and fear, but his hands trembled uncontrollably, betraying his bravado. For a moment, his gaze darted nervously toward the CVI headset on the table, lingering just long enough to reveal the cracks in his defiance. The sweat dripping from his forehead landed with soft taps on the steel surface, each sound amplifying the oppressive silence in the room. He hesitated, his voice faltering, as the weight of his threats began to collapse under Amina’s unyielding gaze.

Amina’s smile grew colder, sharper. She rose from her chair, walking slowly around the desk. “Oh, Desmond,” she murmured, her tone sweet but laced with steel, “you really don’t understand your position, do you?”

She stopped behind him, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” she continued. “You’re going to tell me everything. Every plan. Every lie. And if you try to resist...” She gestured to the table, where a sleek CVI headset and a syringe sat waiting. “Well, let’s just say we have ways of making sure you cooperate.”

Desmond froze, his bravado crumbling. “Please, don’t do this,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’ll tell you everything. Just... don’t hurt me.”

Amina crouched down, her face level with his. Her smile returned, warmer now but no less dangerous. “Oh, I know you will,” she said softly. “Because by the time we’re done, you’ll be a good little boy. You’ll know exactly where you belong.”

Her voice hardened, her eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “Under my shoes. And at the feet of white men.”

Desmond broke, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed. “It was Nia! She organized everything! She brought the knife, she controlled the ****, she told me Garrett had to go! She even made me delete the security footage from the surveillance room so no one would find out! I just followed orders! Please, I’m sorry!”

Amina stood, her expression unreadable. Desmond’s chest rose and fell rapidly as his gaze flicked between her and the CVI and ATD Headset on the table. For a brief moment, she hesitated, her eyes narrowing as though weighing her next move. A flicker of satisfaction crossed her face, her thoughts sharpening like a blade. Then, with deliberate calm, she stepped forward, her voice steady and cold as ice. His voice wavered. “I-I’ve told you everything. Haven’t I?”

Amina tilted her head, her smile returning, calm and deliberate. “Good,” she said simply. “But just to be sure...””

She nodded to the Latoya, who placed the ATD headset on Desmond’s head. The screen flickered to life, displaying hypnotic patterns that pulsed in time with the soft hum of the device. Amina injected the serum Red Ekl gave her into his neck, her movements calm and deliberate.

As Desmond’s body slumped, his mind overwhelmed by the CVI’s programming, Amina leaned in close, whispering in his ear. “Goodnight, little boy. Let’s make sure this lesson sticks.”

She straightened, smoothing her jacket as she turned to leave. A glance at her watch told her it was nearly Midnight. Her thoughts lingered on Garrett for a moment. How was he holding up? Was he sleeping, or were the effects of the attack still keeping him restless? And Jamal—was he breaking yet under Miranda’s meticulous hand? She smiled faintly, imagining how Jared must look by now, teetering on the edge of sanity under Miranda’s calculated torment.

She turned to Latoya, who had been standing silently by the door, her arms casually crossed. "How’s Jamal?" Amina asked casually, though her tone carried a note of genuine curiosity.

Latoya smirked, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "He’s still cooking, nice and slow. Miranda decided to take the long, agonizing route with him. She’s drawing it out, making every moment count."

Amina chuckled softly, her expression briefly softening. "Ah, Miranda. Always so thorough. Her patience is truly an art."

With that, she stepped into the corridor, her heels clicking rhythmically against the concrete floor as she walked away. The faint hum of the CVI device still buzzed in her ears as she let her mind drift back to Garrett. The image of him, rising stronger and more resolute, filled her with quiet satisfaction. "Almost there," she murmured to herself, her voice barely audible over the fading echo of her steps. The corridors stretched endlessly before her, each step bringing her closer to fulfilling his vision.