Irish American Hero: Michael Patrick O'Shea

*This preview has been slightly edited for content.*

The door opened again. A chair was set up and Michael was thrown into it. He started to curse at them. A sudden punch deep into his stomach drew all the air out of him. Michael felt his hands pulled back behind the chair and then heard the sound of duct tape going tightly about his wrists and ankles.

Hugh, hearing the commotion, pulled his body into a ball and covered his head with his hands.

Michael tried to throw his body out of the chair, and was shoved back violently. A hand pushed solidly into the center of his chest. Michael stared into the face of the guard who was pushing against him with all his weight. The guard's hair was cropped military short and his nose was bent to the left. His teeth were yellow and his breath was stale.

'Did he tell you he signed a confession?' the bent-nose said. 'Did he tell you he named you as an arms supplier to a terrorist group?'

Hugh called back from the floor. 'I didn't. He's lying!' Bent-nose released Michael and kicked Hugh in the ribs. Hugh wheezed out a long miserable groan... Then, he shuddered in pain.

The Bent-nose turned back to Michael. He moved so close Michael could see his skin pores and the little hairs sticking out of his nose. 'Why don't you rat him out? He signed a confession. You're named as an illegal arms smuggler. That's 20 years in prison. Don't let him get away with it. Tell us what we need to know, eh?'

Michael said nothing. He tried to move his head to pull back from the bent-nose man. The sharp British accent was like a fingernail on a chalkboard.

Bent-nose's brown eyes sparkled and he smiled slightly. 'Is it cause...you shagged his sister? Is that it? You feel loyal to him cause his sister gave you a little?"

Michael had all he could stand. He gritted his teeth together and glared at the bent-nosed man.

'Shut up!' He screamed.

Bent-nose laughed. 'Oh, ho-ho-ho! I touched a nerve, didn't I?' He suddenly lashed out and Michael felt an explosion of fire on his cheek, over and over again as Bent-nose repeatedly slapped him.

His ears rang and tears ran down his face. Michael could feel mucus running from his nose onto his upper lip. He sobbed.

'Oh, look.' said Bent-nose. 'I've hurt you. You're sniveling. What are you going to do when I really hurt you, eh? What will you do when I cut things off?'

Michael held his breath. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. His stomach was aching from being hit and his cheeks were burning from the slaps. He closed his eyes...he waited. He thought of Lana. He could see her face in his mind. Her pale blue eyes were filled with tears. She wept with him and slowly Michael became aware of the silence in the room. He opened his eyes and everyone was gone. The only trace of them was the small spot of blood Hugh had left on the cement floor.

Michael took a deep breath and suddenly felt his bladder release. God. He'd wet himself. Now his humiliation was complete. He could at least console himself knowing he hadn't been broken. He had told them nothing. His hands had gone numb and his arms ached from being pulled back behind the chair.

He could hear talking outside the door. Nothing they said was clear. He could hear Bent-nose and Pink-face. They were arguing. Maybe now they'd play the 'good cop-bad cop routine' with him. He'd had psychological torture and a bit of physical abuse. Now what would they do to him?

The door! Christ! He swallowed hard and tried to maintain some form of a brave front. The door opened wide. A soldier in a khaki uniform entered. A black hood was pulled over Michael's head. His hands remained taped together but he was freed from the chair. He was pulled to his feet. It was hard to breathe, the hood was sucked into his mouth and nose.

'Walk.' Strong hands gripped his arms and guided him. 'To the left!' Michael obeyed.