The interrogation chamber was a nightmare made real. Cold stone walls seemed to close in around me, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid stench of fear. I lost track of time as the "questioners" worked tirelessly, their methods growing more brutal with each passing hour.
They started with simple physical torments - sleep deprivation, hanging me upside down, icy water dousing. But as the night wore on and I refused to break, their tactics became more inventive, more cruel. Whips lashed across my back, leaving fiery trails of agony. Needles slid under my fingernails, sending jolts of white-hot pain through my entire body.
Through it all, I clung to my innocence like a lifeline. No matter how much they hurt me, no matter what they threatened, I wouldn't confess to c
