I let my head fall back against the restraint, staring up at the grey ceiling, chest heaving.
They want me to break.
They want to see the moment I become useless.
But I won’t give them that either.
I go still.
Completely still.
I stop testing. Stop reacting. Stop giving them movement to measure. My body hangs slack in the restraints, breath shallow but controlled, eyes half-lidded.
The screens spike with confusion as data flatlines.
Silence stretches.
Longer this time.
The numbness remains. The pain remains. The restraint remains.
But the interaction stops.
Finally, the voice speaks again, sharper now. “Subject?”
I don’t move.
I don’t respond.
I don’t give them rage or resistance or data.
I become dead weight.
The room hums, systems adjusting, searching for something to grab hold of.
They wanted violence.
I give them absence.
Minutes pass. Maybe more.
Eventually, I feel it – the smallest shift in pressure, the cuffs easing just enough to test whether I’ll seize the opportunity.
I don’t.
Inside, something cold and steady settles into place.
They can drug me. Restrain me. Strip away my tools.
But they still don’t know how I choose to fight.
And I don’t need my hands to learn.
I keep my eyes open, my body still, and let them sit with the problem they can’t solve yet.
Me.
CASE FILE - KOOKABURRA
