Unwanted Scars

Chapter 1

Emma POV

Waking up to being dragged on the cold floors, where my knees are being scraped and blood is leaking down my legs, leading me away from the haunting room with scarring silver tools, reaching my cell.

The men threw me into my cell. I landed onto the stone floor with a grunt of pain coming from me. They gave me this weird look and started laughing, whilst turning around and locking the door shut as the mental smashed together, making me flinch back, knowing full well that I couldn't escape.

After leaving me in the cell, I started observing the area. The cell is very small, making me feel very claustrophobic. There were no beds and just a small toilet in the corner.

Why are they treating me like some sort of beast?

Eww! There's this strong, disgusting smell. It smells like blood, not fresh blood, dried blood, actually a bit of both.

Contemplating if the smell was dried or fresh blood, I made my way to the corner and sat down away from the smelly toilet.

Looking around, my gaze came across other children in their cells, sitting on the cold floor. Their heads were positioned down, like they were depressed and broken.

Am I going to turn out like them? Is this how I'm going to live the rest of my life?

I found it weird how every cell has two or three people in them, whilst I have no one. Maybe they will come later.

Watching the other kids with a small sad smile, as they huddle close together finding whatever comfort they can, on the disgusting floors.

I'm going to freeze if I don't have company in this cell. Trying to keep warm, I leaned my back against the hard walls pulling my knees to my chest for warmth.

How often the thought of giving up will pass my mind in the coming years, I wonder what kind of horrors I will witness in my waking moments, and I wonder if I will survive or die at a young age.

"Hey"

My head snaps up when I hear someone speak. A boy with straight dirty blonde hair and gloomy hazel eyes, is sitting in the cell in front of me.

"Umm hey" I quickly replied back.

"What's your name!" As soon as I said that, I regretted it. We don't even have names anymore, just some stupid numbers. Regret showing on my face, the boy smiles sadly and puts out both of his wrists for me to see. "331" I said whilst nodding, returning the gesture, showing both my wrists to reveal my numbers, "I'm 364".

---- A Year Later----

Brutal is the only word to describe the past five months or so. I have guessed the actual length of the time, I honestly have no idea how long I've been here and have lost all sense of time. I couldn't no longer figure out from days to weeks to months anymore.

We have all been subjected to different types of pain, physical pain, verbal abuse, that's what the kids in my cell area go through. However, the floor above us are where young girls stay and get given away for sex, they don't get physical abuse but I'm still thankful that I'm not apart of that.

Over the last months or even years, I have no idea, the children and I in my cell block have to follow very strict rules like:

1. No talking

2. Speak when allowed to

3. Stay in line