I feel warm when the sunlight pours through the small window for the cell I am in. This is new. there is a sickening smell coming from down the spells. Looks like someone did not survive the night. I am not surprised. I have been waiting for my turn for freedom but I receive no such generosity. Maybe the smell woke me up. I open my eyes and lay still for a minute looking at the dust particles dancing in the stream of light coming from the bars. The sun hits my face. I do not flinch. Any light is welcome in my life. The sun seems like a blessing in this cold cell that has been my home for almost a decade now.
I wince as I get up. Slowly stretching, I walk towards the opposite wall. The entire wall has been covered in tally marks, for I have counted the days of my forced stay. It has been 9 years, 11 Months, and 26 Days. I sigh tiredly before taking a small piece of stone and scratching a new tally mark beside the last one. I don’t know what day it is, but I know I turn 20 this year. I can no longer remember the day. My only source of time being the light outside.
There is nothing much to do here. I go and sit back down in the small cot and watch the dust again. I know the heathens will not be down here for some time. I have been quiet since last night since I fell asleep. I have been accustomed to hear the screams and whimpers of the others in this room. Is it weird that I cannot sleep without it?
My entire body is aching, my recent knife injuries burn under the plain black-smock when the cloth touches the wounds. Any movement makes my body protest in pain. I am sore all over. But after all this time, I have been used to daily pain and abuse. I hate it and would love to have a break to heal, but I know that a break means twice the abuse. These monsters find it amusing to see the different color patches on my skin. I have become pale due to lack of light here. My bruised are more apparent now. Pale. Weak. Malnourished. All the perfect conditions to them to prey on. I close my eyes.
There is nobody here to talk to. The cells are small, dark, cold, smelly. Everyone is either too scared or…nope, they are all too scared to make a conversation as they fear that they will be punished. I cannot talk to my wolf. I was unable to shift because of the conditions I have been kept in. This solitude is eating me alive. I swear I am one more wall-me conversation away from being called crazy. I find it meditative, to find stapes in the cement of the walls and talk to them. Yesterday my brain conjured up an elephant and I sent hours talking to it. The rest of the prisoners laugh at me when they do that. As far as they are concerned, I am already a lunatic. I sometimes prefer when they come down here to taunt or mess with us. It is fun to rile them up. Suddenly the entrance door creaks open. I smile. My wish has been granted.
I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. A metal pipe is rattled against the numerous bars of the cells causing the rest of the prisoners to wake up screaming, squealing, and whimpering and they realize that the nightmare filled sleep that had has suddenly come true. As usual. I am privileged to have the first appointment. They need to step up their game honestly.
“Wake up! Mutt!”
It is one of the dumber guards. You know the ones who bark too much and are too much of a wuss to bite. This one is new. I smirk, time to have some fun.
“I heard you failed your initiation into the group asshole. What happened? didn’t mommy hook up with the guy taking your initiation or is your brain damaged to process simple instructions from being dropped on your head too many times as a baby?”
I open my eyes to see the guard’s face red and he is fuming. This is too easy. But I spoke too soon.
“Feeling feisty today Vicky?”
My body freezes. It is my nightmare that has come to life now. This voice sends my body to either flight or fight mode. The voice comes from the shadows. How long has he been there?
“Was last night not enough for you? It was definitely not enough for me. Want some early morning exercise too? Another pretty scar on that pathetic body. Hmm? Shall we update the collection?”
Alastair Thomas comes into view, his yellowed teeth gleaming in the lamplight. Grey-faced, an old, and musty smelling man who’s eyes gleam of absolute insanity and depravity. The king of this hell hole. I try not to barf. But apparently, I was not discreet enough. I got punched in the jaw.
I look back, trying to move my jaw to help lessen that pain. I spit the blood out, thankfully no teeth have been broken. I glare into the face of my nightmare then smile.
“I am actually never satisfied with you or your goods. Want to know why? 1stlearn to brush your teeth. 2ndthe only thing I feel for you is a pity. Pity for the non-existent thing you call a dick, I mean common, satisfied? I can’t feel anything! Are you sure you’re not hallucinating? Because as far as I can see, you are nothing but a dickless, spineless, ballless coward who goes around calling himself a man!”
I don’t even have time to react before I’m slammed against the wall behind me. Damn, that’s gonna bruise badly. I fall down and wait for the rest of the beating to start. But it never comes. This is new. I try to ignore the pain and turn my head around but the metal pipe slams against my head and I fall back down. My cell door closes with a few colorful words that I can no longer process. I smile again, welcoming the pain and succumbing to sleep again.
Being unconscious is better than being conscious in here anyways.
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