I hear them approaching through the vast corridor, the stomping of their boots echoing off the cold, stone walls. My stomach knots with every step – “who will it be this time?” We never knew what was coming or who was about to be taken away - that was their way. The perpetual anxiety and paranoia we had to endure proved to be a valuable tool for them. Some men couldn’t stand it. They either went mad or succumbed, finally snapping and confessing to the lies, the false claims on their innocence. Anything to get out of this cell.

During my arrest I was taken from my home in the middle of the night - that was their way. No resistance was expected since the element of surprise combined with sudden and martial arousal from sleep would render most folk utterly complacent. Any attempt to draw attention to the injustice ensured a swift silencing by threats, fists and a cloth gag. Farm swine get treated with more dignity. I was one of the so-called lucky ones, for I was merely thrown into a cell. Sure, it was vile and far too overcrowded, but at least we had a roof over our heads, as well as a hole in the wall that served as a poor excuse for a window.

I’ve read letters from men that were taken out into the fields and told to dig. And so they did, for what choice did they have? After finishing their task, they were instructed to get into their newly made hovel and wait. Some waited for hours, the unlucky ones spent days in their hand-crafted abode. The northern weather showed no respite for the forsaken, often filling the holes with mud and rain water. If one truly wishes to psychologically break a man, make him dig a hole and stand in it for days at a time - knee deep in mud, feces and urine. This sort of treatment would surely set a fine example for those still left with any trace of human spirit or thoughts of dissent.

As the guards draw near, I feel a quaking force thundering through my insides - with every cavernous step a tremor. There was no room to sit, so we stood shoulder to shoulder in that tiny, dank chamber, anxiously awaiting our fates – our hearts beating in unquiet synchrony. The steps finally cease in front of the large metal door. An eternity of silence passed before I heard a key penetrate the archaic lock. It let out a ghastly squeal that scraped the inside of my skull and sent a deep shudder down the collective spines of the detainees.

The gate to our humble container swung open and revealed a ghostly image of a man we once knew. He had been gone for over a week. God only knows what they did to him. The seemingly lifeless body was thrown back into the cell with little care. My heart bled for this poor soul. Desperately searching for any remaining trace of humanity, my eyes met with one of the guards'. Someone's got to be next. The interrogations never stop, for no respite can be given to the vermin. I suppose he didn’t take too kindly to that, I thought to myself as my ever-thinning wrists felt the cold embrace of shackles.

I was led out of the cell into the overly-bright, uninviting hall. With every step a marathon - I was heading into the maw of the unknown. Nowhere to go but forward, I let out a quiet prayer as I entered that dreaded room of despair.