Letter
This piece is a letter written by a political prisoner in S-21. It is written to his mother, though he does not know her location, and knows it will be burned immediately. It is simply something he uses to express his feelings and experiences before his death. This allows one to see how the prisons effect the already terrorized Cambodians.
Dear Mother,
There are so many unspeakable acts committed here I do not know where to begin. I guess I should start from how I arrived at this horrifying place. At the work camp where I previously stayed, it was asleep when a nosy teenager in my tent searched through my things and found my old pair of glasses. He showed them to one of the guards and the next day I was on my way here. We passed by a pit full of dead bodies, and they were all wearing the same uniform I was given. For some reason, I was not as frightened by this as I should have been, my reaction to death seems to have been desensitized. As we arrived at my cell I was brutally thrown into it, and there I stayed overnight, with no food, water or bed. The following day, the beatings began.
I was awakened with a scream at about dawn, and not long after, a guard came in and brought me to a torture chamber that stank of blood and sweat. I was tied down, and then they began to ask the questions; ones I could not answer. I tried to satisfy them, but the lashes of the whip were continuous, and the pain excruciating. At about noon the beating stopped, but began again until dark only a few hours later. It has been three days now and I am still without food or water, my will to live is splitting just as the skin on my back is in so many places. Every hour of whipping my soul gets weaker and weaker, and they say it will not stop until I tell the truth. What truth have not already told them? Can't they see I have done nothing wrong? I just want all this to stop, I do not care if it is through death anymore.
Your Son,
Phiron Chhet
Dear Mother,
There are so many unspeakable acts committed here I do not know where to begin. I guess I should start from how I arrived at this horrifying place. At the work camp where I previously stayed, it was asleep when a nosy teenager in my tent searched through my things and found my old pair of glasses. He showed them to one of the guards and the next day I was on my way here. We passed by a pit full of dead bodies, and they were all wearing the same uniform I was given. For some reason, I was not as frightened by this as I should have been, my reaction to death seems to have been desensitized. As we arrived at my cell I was brutally thrown into it, and there I stayed overnight, with no food, water or bed. The following day, the beatings began.
I was awakened with a scream at about dawn, and not long after, a guard came in and brought me to a torture chamber that stank of blood and sweat. I was tied down, and then they began to ask the questions; ones I could not answer. I tried to satisfy them, but the lashes of the whip were continuous, and the pain excruciating. At about noon the beating stopped, but began again until dark only a few hours later. It has been three days now and I am still without food or water, my will to live is splitting just as the skin on my back is in so many places. Every hour of whipping my soul gets weaker and weaker, and they say it will not stop until I tell the truth. What truth have not already told them? Can't they see I have done nothing wrong? I just want all this to stop, I do not care if it is through death anymore.
Your Son,
Phiron Chhet
