Irina spent over a week in the hospital ward. The bed was immensely more comfortable than the slab in her cell, and she actually had sheets to keep her warm at night. They had treated her kindly enough -- she was given emergency contraception and preventative treatments for assorted STDs, and some of the staff even treated her with something approaching sympathy as they mended her broken nose, fractured ribs and cracked orbit. But none of them dared ask questions, nor did they listen when she tried to tell her what had been done to her. Surely, they all had ventured a guess; but to question the government was treason, and nobody wanted to end up in a similar situation to her.
When she was sufficiently healed, she was unceremoniously returned to her cold, dark cell. With nothing to do, she spent as much time as possible asleep; although her dreams were filled with terrors, the thoughts that she ruminated upon during her waking hours were arguably worse. She had seen the government broadcasts of traitors and terrorists flogged in some prison yard or another, then later watched the same people dangling from the end of a rope, the life gone from their eyes. Such was the price of crimes against the state in the new order. Such was the cost of safety, or so the government had claimed.
Surely, she would share their same fate someday soon. She had confessed everything she knew, but leniency in military tribunals was scarce. She had suffered enough already -- how would she be able to stand the lashes doled out by the court? If they deemed her worthy of capital punishment, would she go proudly or in tears? What would it feel like once they dropped the hatch below her feet after the noose had been secured around her neck? The thought made her nauseous.
Meals and water were slid through a small hatch at the base of the door to her cell three times a day. She ate by the only source of light, which was the small bar-lined opening towards the top of the door. The opening, which was perhaps a foot wide and half a foot high, provided her only interaction with the outside world. She heard voices of people passing in the hallway from time to time, and sometimes caught a glimpse of someone walking by the door, occasionally escorting another prisoner. Once she thought she recognized a fellow member of her resistance group, but wasn't sure. At one point she tried calling out to people in adjacent cells, but in short order a guard barged into her cell wielding a nasty-looking baton and threatened to "send her back down to Boris" if she didn't shut up.
The water they provided wasn't very good, and she knew the gruel that was served for every meal was the "Wellness Porridge" that was common in prisons throughout the country. It tasted like cardboard, but was said to contain a perfectly balanced mix of nutrients for the human body. Although it was disgusting, it served as her only indicator of how much time was passing in the cell. Having been served twenty-one bowls of gruel and twenty-one cups of water, she knew she had been alone in the cell for seven days now. How much longer did they intend to keep her here? Eventually she'd have a trial, but at times she was sure she'd go mad before that.
But on the seventh day, a guard opened her cell door. At first she thought he came to threaten her, but the handling pole in his hand suggested he intended to take her somewhere. Her throat tightened. Were they going to send her back to the interrogation chamber?
"All right, prisoner, it's time for your weekly shower," he said. "I'm going to slip the collar of this handling pole over your head, then tighten it snugly around your neck and take you over to the facilities. No funny stuff, or I'll bring you right back here and you won't get to clean up."
This was the best news Irina had heard since being returned to her cell. Despite the cold temperature, Irina often woke in a sweat from her nightmares; all the perspiration had made her skin greasy, and she started to notice her own body odor. She didn't think she had ever gone seven days without bathing. She let the guard slip the collar of the handling pole over her head and secure it in place. Its four-foot length meant that she couldn't hit or kick him, even if she tried. She was surely no match for the guard, but they apparently needed to be cautious.
Using the pole, he guided her through the labyrinthine passageways of the prison until she was pushed into a rather large room. Several women stood against the wall, naked as the day they were born. The guard shoved her in line with the rest of them, and released the collar from around her neck before departing.
Two more armed guards stood in the room, supervising the women lined up across from them.
"All right, prisoner, remove the jumpsuit. You'll be given a fresh one after the shower," said one of the guards.
Irina blushed. Before she was arrested, she had only been seen naked in her adult life by her doctor and her late husband; now, she had already been seen by a number of guards, the interrogator, and the men who had so brutally raped her. Still, she didn't feel comfortable as she unzipped the jumpsuit and tossed it on the floor. She always thought her breasts were too small, her nipples too large, and her hips too broad. To maintain some semblance of modesty, she crossed her arms across her chest.
As they stood against the wall, more women were led in and forced to undress. Irina was shocked to see among them Karina and Natalia, two of the women from her resistance group. When they saw her, their eyes grew wide with surprise, but quickly grew surly and never spoke a word to her. They must have realized that it was because of her failure that they had been caught.
The two of them stripped and stood in line. Natalia was a bit on the heavy side; her large breasts and soft belly jiggled as she reluctantly pulled off her outfit. Karina was as beautiful naked as she was clothed; the guards couldn't help but steal glances at her shapely figure and the delicate pink nipples that topped her perfectly round breasts.
Eventually, a total of nine women had been brought into the room and stood naked in a straight line.
"All right, ladies," said one of the guards. "You're to proceed to the next room, where you'll find a shower facility. There are bottles of soap, shampoo, and hair removal cream to use as you wish, but don't linger. Once you've dried off, come back out here and you will be given fresh jumpsuits and taken back to your cells."
The line of women trudged through the doorway into the next room, where a dozen showerheads lined the walls. On a central pedestal were the soaps and creams, as promised. The women took some and went to the showerheads.
The water was only lukewarm and smelled somewhat of sulfur, but a shower had never felt so heavenly to Irina. As she rinsed out her hair, she glanced around the room and was surprised to see several of the women applying hair removal cream to their pubic hair. Who were they trying to impress?
After cleaning off and removing the unpleasant stubble that had grown on her legs, Irina closed her eyes and let the water run down her body for a few sweet moments. For a short time, all of her worries were forgotten.
She didn't even hear the approaching footsteps. One minute she was enjoying her shower; the next, her legs were knocked out from below her and she smacked her head on the wall as she fell to the ground. Looking up, she saw Karina and Natalia towering over her. On close inspection, she saw that Karina's torso was covered in faded but painful-looking bruises.
"You sold us out, you little bitch," Karina snarled. Irina tried to shield herself hopelessly against the flurry of kicks.
