Despair

I slumped back against the damp, stone wall and let out a sigh. My hair was dishevelled, and my white shirt had turned a sickly shade of brown from all of the muck that had accumulated over the last few weeks.

Everything hurt. My arms, my legs, my head. I was in a perpetual state of pain and hunger. I had gotten used to it by now though.

I gazed out into the corridor beyond my cell's iron bars. Makeshift prisons lined the walls on either side, containing all the necessities one would ever need. A bucket, and a cold, hard ground to fall asleep on.

Other children were coming and going every other day, bought up by sick nobles in need of a cheap slave.

Not me though. Nobody wanted a frail, weak little girl. I was fated to rot in this underground prison for the rest of my days.

The door at the end was pushed open, and the sound of a man's cackle flooded the hallway. He trotted up the cells, a line of five children trailing behind him. Today must have been a 'good haul' for these bastards.

I threw my head into my knees and closed my eyes.

A few hours later, I was woken up by the metallic rattle of the warden slamming his weapon against my cell. "Wakey, wakey, princess. Against the wall."

A bald, yellow-toothed scoundrel gave me an unnerving grin. He was holding a young boy by the scruff of his neck. The boy's body was limp, and his clothes were soaking wet.

I moved over to the back of the cell, and placed my hands on my head.

I heard a loud thud behind me, and then the creak of the cell door being closed. I lowered my hands, and rested my forehead against the wall for a while. I wasn't sure if I wanted to turn around.

Was that boy even alive? I didn't want to be stuck in here with a corpse. The thought of that filled me with a wave of nausea, and I almost ended up barfing.

I braced myself for what I might see, and slowly turned my head - keeping one eye closed...

Oh no. He was in a horrific state. I crouched down next to him, and placed my hand on his shoulder. His face was bruised, and he was clutching his stomach. Long scrapes covered his arms and legs.

That bald slaver crawled into my head, and I begun to seethe. The image of him dragging this little boy across the floor made my blood boil. Absolutely despicable.

The boy suddenly entered a coughing fit, snapping into an upright position and almost giving me a headbutt. He clutched his stomach tighter, and wiped his mouth, squinting as he gazed around the cell.

He had short black hair, with chunks of dirt caught in between the strands. He noticed me sitting next to him, turning his head so that he could study me carefully. The boy had emerald green eyes, and a gentle complexion.

He must've only been around... five or six years old.

"W... who the hell... are you..?" He collapsed after speaking, and would've hit his head on the ground if I hadn't been there.

Those were not the words I had expected to come out of a child's mouth. Well, I was only eight years old myself, so I shouldn't say much.

I peered down at the boy, who's head was now face down on my lap.

I placed my hand onto his hair. It was only downhill from here for this boy, so I supposed that I could just let him rest like this. Just for one night.