Chapter 11: First Questioning
“My name is Farouq,” said the man while putting the photo back in the folder. “This here is Aziz and the man behind you is Karim. I am a prosecutor and these two gentlemen are agents.”
“Why am I here?” repeated Alisa with a weak voice after clearing her throat.
“We do not know yet why you are here, but I assume there is a reason, isn’t there?” His English was almost perfect, with only a little bit of an accent.
“Can I have some water please?” she asked. She had spotted the pitcher with water on the table with several glasses and she desperately wanted to wash the horrible taste of semen from her mouth. The water jet in the shower had been impossible to drink from.
“Of course,” said Farouq and he gestured at Karim to bring her a glass of water.
“In the meantime I would appreciate it if you sat down a bit more decent,” said Aziz. “I know you are naked, but can you at least keep your knees together and sit up straight. In such a slumped down position with your legs wide you look more like a prostitute.”
Alisa blushed, both with shame and in anger. She had not spread her legs at all, but instead of protesting, she straightened herself as much as she could and put her knees tightly together. When she got the glass of water she drank eagerly from it and sloshed the water carefully around in her mouth to get rid of the nasty taste.
“First of all, congratulations on your recovery,” resumed Farouq. “We understand you were discovered in enemy territory in quite difficult circumstances. The doctors had to work hard to repair your body and bring you back to health. Which took a couple of weeks, right? Are you healthy again?”
Alisa had been recovering for a month from damages done to her in only five days. She felt how her wrists and feet were still throbbing, but not too painful and mostly from her ordeals today. She also felt a dull ache in her abdomen. But other than that she felt alright, just very tired. For a moment she hesitated. Maybe she should demand being taken back to the hospital? But she already knew the answer to that. So instead she nodded, she was in a way healthy. Healthy enough to go home, she thought silently.
The man looked at her body and though noticing the bandages around her wrists and feet, which were still wet and slightly stained, he wasn’t able to find any obvious damage. He nodded and was apparently satisfied as he continued speaking.
“From what they told me, you had quite severe injuries. Some of the injuries were rather peculiar though.” He waited once more and looked at her. She blinked slowly and bit her lower lip. She felt unsure if she wanted to discuss her ordeals, because little as she remembered it was all horrible enough.
“I read in your medical report you were with baby, which sadly didn’t survive.”
Alisa’s eyes went wide open and she blinked faster, as this was something she could not remember at all.
“I see your confusion,” said the man. “We dug around a little and it appears there was no baby at all. One of the medical staff told us about the strangest thing though. You appeared to be pregnant by the looks of it, but when they performed surgery on you, it turned out your womb was inflated with liquid. No baby. Just liquid.”
She shuddered as that was indeed something she remembered, though still only bits and pieces of it.
“Were you fucked by men?” Farouq continued. “By a lot of men even?”
She slowly nodded.
“Judging from the amount of semen in your womb, they told me it was really a lot of men, is that right?”
Again she nodded.
“How many men would you say? Dozens? A hundred maybe?”
Again she shuddered. She remembered the young men who fucked her while she was on the cross. In her mind came a number and she whispered “Twenty or so, multiple times… They raped me…”
“That remains to be seen,” said Aziz, “and judging by the amount of semen that they pumped out of your womb, the medic estimates if were at least three hundred men.”
Alisa gasped and started coughing, feeling queasy hearing that number. A memory came back to her, of bottles filled with semen. She remembered the pain of having been nailed to the cross with wrists and feet. And how they had inserted a tube into her cervix, pumping semen, which they had collected from prisoners, into her womb. They had made her look pregnant and she remembered the extreme pain of that torture. She had expected to die from it and almost did.
(See previous story:
The ordeals of Alisa Foxen)
Farouq noticed her response, but he showed little empathy when he continued.
“They found you while you were nailed to a cross. The wounds on your wrists and feet testify to that and I see from your bandages that you are still healing from that. Can we see your wounds?”
Alisa shuddered but helped by Karim she removed the bandages from both wrists and her feet as well. For some reason she felt even more naked now, especially since all three men came over to her to inspect the wounds, while they talked about it in Arabic.
They sat down behind the desk again and Farouq asked: “Were you on that cross voluntarily?”
“No!” gasped Alisa. “Who would want that? I was convicted. They were going to put me to death by crucifixion. Islamic state… they falsely accused me….”
“What did they accuse you of?” asked Aziz.
Alisa was trembling. She licked her lips and started to stammer. “They said I… was a whore… they thought I was… turning their women… into whores…” She felt tears welling up in her eyes.
“Yes,” said Farouq, “They are quite barbaric. But I have never heard about crucifixion in Islamic State. Why would they do something so exceptional to you?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
“Was that the only thing they did to you?” asked Aziz.
She slowly shook her head.
“What else did they do?” continued Farouq, insisting to hear her story.
“They…” she started, with a lump in her throat, “they whipped me… in public.”
The men listened silently and looked at her naked body, probably to see if there were still traces of that, but she had healed enough not to display any clear signs of having been whipped. They then waited silently to hear if there was more.
“And they….,” she resumed with a whisper, “they hung me up and impaled me.”
“I see,” said Farouq. “how did they hang you? From your wrists? Like on a cross?”
She shook her head. “They hung me by the neck,” she said. “And my breasts.” She brushed a hand over her breasts, remembering how painful that had been.
“And you survived being hung from the neck? How ?” asked Aziz.
“They also,” she swallowed, “made me sit on … large poles. Not only hanging… not fully… well, only a short time…” She had trouble explaining it.
“Large poles? How? In your vagina?”
“And in my… anus…” she whispered and swallowed again, feeling dizzy just thinking about that ordeal. She also wondered how she could ever have survived that.
“Did it feel good?” asked Farouq then, causing her to gasp.
“Of course not!” she exclaimed. “it hurt, it hurt really bad.”
The men looked at each other.
“Why didn’t you run away?” asked Aziz.
“I could not…” she replied. “I was tied and they guarded me well…” There was also a bit of hesitation because she remembered how she had been given opportunity to run away and she had not taken it.
“We understand,” said Farouq. “And I think we’ve talked enough for now. We’ll see you again tomorrow. Take some rest now and I’ll let them give you some food.”
They got up and Karim called in the guards to take her away.