Torture

She closed her eyes, tired, withered. Tears were all gone now, all that was left was this strange void of emotion. No pain was conceivable beyond the carcass of her old self that laid there in the floor, naked, motionless, frozen.
Hours before, there was scream, there was pain, there was spirit to fight, to struggle. To pretend she could go on.
No more pretending, she had nothing for them, but nothing for herself either. The truth that was within, was gone.
A fractured self was in place among the moistened rock and the moss that surrounded her.
Only man can destroy a soul beyond repair, only species capable of breaking an opponent, real or imaginary, to the point of begging for death.
And only man can stop the madness of torture. She always thought humans were the best in the creation, now she new they were both the best and the worst.
The only ones that can have a Mother Theresa and a Holocaust, the only species capable of total selflessness and total selfishness...
and there she was no longer afraid, perhaps just amazed at this monumental capacity for destruction that humankind has. Maybe hoping some day someone will say enough and no one else will endure a lonely cell in a place where no one knows, where no one goes out unharmed... innocent or guilty, we're all just one kind, the one made by God, whose life is only for God to take away...