Robin looked around the room, her gaze roving over the half-asleep individuals on their mats, Callie, the other newcomer, her twin, before coming to rest on the frail-looking Luna. It was sobering, seeing what the men who ran this place had gotten all these people to do to one another.
Shaking her head, she said, “So that’s how they do it. Get us to turn on one another for scraps. Punish everyone for one person’s supposed mistakes to get the other prisoners to...” at this, she gestured to Luna’s bruising, “correct things on their own. Must make things much simpler on the guards.”
This was just sad, seeing all of this. This definitely wasn’t the way she had imagined she would see Richard again. In her mind’s eye, it always involved SWAT teams busting through warehouse doors dramatically, like in the shows, swooping in and rescuing her brother and depositing him in her arms. And somewhere along the line, that one asshole of a detective who had kept insisting that Rick had run away would be forced to apologize to her, and tell her that she’d been right all along.
Instead, she found herself held captive among a bunch of sad-looking young people, fighting for whatever scraps were thrown their way, willing to turn on one another just to escape punishment. It made her sick to her stomach.
The boy who had been brought here with her stood up, and spoke again, as no one had answered him the first time. “Where. The fuck. Am I?” His dark hair hung unkempt over his forehead, and his blue eyes flashed with fury.
Callie, who was quickly rising on Robin’s People I Hate list, quickly put her hands over the older boy’s mouth. “Don’t curse,” she said quickly. “Master Marcus doesn’t like it when his animals curse.”