What are you writing? 
Also, for some reason, I cant type astricks, so if Im missing apostrophes every where, its because Firefox is being gay with yuku.
Un-named Novel:
They say that I'm a good man. They said that I had redeemed myself from my sins. They had forgiven me for what I had done. If only my body and mind agreed with what they said. Maybe then I'd be able to sleep soundly at night. Turns out, I don't think I'm a good man. I think that I could be good, but that I still have a long way to go. All the things I did in the past, all the things that I destroyed, cannot be forgiven as easily as they seem to think it could be. Of course, now it might be too late to clean my soul, to relieve the sins I had committed against them. No, it is too late. I'm too late.
I'm not really asleep, just pretending. Ever since they had captured me, I haven't slept much. I lost track of time an hour after they put me in this #@@% chair. At first I yelled, wanting to know what was going on, wanting to know what happened. Than I had grown hungry, lost my energy, and given up. I think somewhere after about five hours of being alone I went crazy, laughing hysterically. Maybe I slept for an hour or two, or maybe it was just five minutes. Who the hell knows? All I know is after a long time they finally gave me something to drink. It wasn't much, just water, but it was some of the best water I had ever drank in my life. It tasted a little sweet, but I didn't realize until about five minutes ago that they had drugged it. With what, who knows? All I know is that I was asleep, but woke up. My mind right now is a swirling mess of memories and emotions. Anger, happiness, rage, love, it was all swirling around. My muscles, they were sore. I couldn't even lift my head off the table.
Speaking of the table. It was cold. My head was on it, my forehead pressed hard against the cool, metallic surface. If I had felt like opening my eyes, if I had had the energy to do so, I would have seen a mirror like surface, the generic steel table they kept in these types of rooms.
My senses were still not working very well, another sign that I was drugged. I didn't hear the man enter the room. Maybe I didn't want to. Perhaps I just wanted to be alone, to dwell, to think about my past. How my fine, small, happy little life was turned upside down when my mother got sick. How I put myself it debt because of her, and how I went on some crazy adventure just to pay to keep her alive. #@@%, it all seems like a waste now. Money was no longer an issue for me. It was no longer important. That and I didn't exactly need any money.
A hand slammed on the table. Hard. I got scared and jumped in my seat. Unfortunately, my wrists and ankles were still attached to the chair, so I couldn't exactly jump. Instead, my neck shot up, my eyes wide open now. The bright overhead lights filled my vision, and I had to squint to see just the blurriest of shadows. The man standing on the other side of the table was one such shadow. He kind of looked like a man. He was fat, very fat from his outline. As my vision started to adjust, the man was still fat, but not as fat as I had first believed. He looked like he was stuffed with expensive foods all day, his gut sticking out. He probably was pampered by servants, and was probably served the fanciest foods found on Earth. Food, what I wouldn't do for some food. Who cared about steak? I would have taken the crap they gave me in space. That dried up %+*@ that your saliva made bearable to eat. I promised myself if I ever had a chance to go back up there, I would never, ever, complain about the food again.
"Wake up, sunshine." He sounded confident, very confident. It's amazing how well you could read a person just by the way they talked. He sounded fat, which almost made me chuckle. Almost. I had lost my sense of humor hours, maybe days, ago. Anyway, he sounded confident, that much was sure. He sounded like a person of authority, one that thought he was never wrong. Maybe that's why he was wearing the General insignia. A man of power, probably cause he was rich. That's how they all got there these days apparently.
He was wearing a military uniform. Back when I served, you had to fit into the uniform you were given. Apparently, the rules were bent for this man. They were bent a lot. They probably had to make the uniform five times bigger than they had to make mine. The General insignia was on the left side of his chest and his shoulders. Underneath the badge on his chest, there were at least two dozen medals pinned down on him. Medal of Honor, Purple Heart, combat veteran. That almost made me laugh, too. The man barely looked like he could run the obstacle course at basic, let alone run through a battle field with a full pack and a weapon. Next to his medals, on his left arm, were the patches. I didn't notice the ones on the bottom. They probably said the unit he had supposedly been in when he earned all of his honors. I didn't care about those. It was the one on the top that I cared about. It was the United States flag, in all of her glory. The fifty-three stars, the thirteen stripes. The golden border around it made it look royal and majestic. There was a time when that patch, when that flag, actually meant something to me. When it had meant freedom, when it had meant rights for all people within her borders. It had been something to fight for. Now it made me smile. It was a joke to wear that patch. The United States had been dead for centuries.
I looked at his face, and immediately started laughing. Between his fat cheeks, his short, Hitler like mustache under his nose, and his round, red nose, I couldn't stop laughing. That and it felt good to laugh at something. A genuine laugh. I hadn't laughed since they had thrown me in this room.
"What's so funny?" the fat man asked, his stupid grin disappearing when I didn't stop. "God %@%$%$# damnit, answer me!"
His face got redder and redder the madder he got. The more I laughed, the madder he got. The redder his face got, the more I laughed. It was a never ending cycle, and it would've continued if he didn't get up and punch me in the gut. I exhaled, the wind being knocked out of me. For a fat, unhealthy looking guy, he sure was pretty strong. Than again, perhaps it was me who was just weak. That reminded me that I was still hungry.
Catching my breath, I heard the general sit down and grunt. "Got nothing to laugh at now, do you?"
I finally looked up, but instead of looking at his face, for I was scared I would start to laugh again. So, I looked at his neck. His fat, short neck. So fat I couldn't even see his Adam's apple. I had to suppress a fit of laughter again.
"What do you want from me?" My voice was hoarse, and cracked from lack of use. I barely spoke over a whisper. If I hadn't known I had spoken, I wouldn't have recognized my own voice.
Just from the way he leaned forward to whisper back to me, I knew he was smiling his stupid smile. "I want you to tell me everything."
"Everything?" Melissa flashed before my eyes. My mother, Jack, Jake, Scarecrow, Ghost, Julia, Soreya. The battles, the blood shed. The faces of those I killed, human and Orayan alike. All of it flashed before me. The emotions of betrayal, the inner turmoil within me had all returned, with ten times the resolve to tear me apart. On top of it all, though, the faces I saw clearest were Melissa's and Soreya's.
The fat man chuckled. "Every single %@%$%$# detail."
Well, that was going to be difficult. Every detail included telling him that I had come five-hundred years from the past.
