Scribbles and Drabbles

Cabin Rat 3

Stone walls greeted him as he woke up, the sight alone startling him awake. Where was he? Unease filled him. His head was aching where they'd knocked him out. He'd been caught. Damnit. He sat up, vision blurring for a moment at the sharp action. Metal clanked and cold dug into his neck.

Slavers had caught him. All colour drained from the boy's face. Not his first time but in the previous times he'd been lucky at escaping. Given how the last few weeks had gone, he doubted his luck was going the same way. Honestly, the way he was going, the slavers would be selling him right back to the pirates he'd escaped from. They would laugh. His chest tightened. As horrible as that image was, it was probably one of the better fates. There was no guarantee these slavers were only life traders. The other street kids had warned him about far worse things happening than being dragooned on a pirate ship.

Plan time. The plan for the city had not worked so now it was time to adjust before he panicked. He was dressed. He tugged at the cuffs on his wrists, the steel cylinders attached to chains crisscrossing over him. They were loose now but the right tug and pull but pin his arms to his body and make it impossible to fight back. His ankles were the same. There was no obvious lock on them. Whoever had him had the money for decent restraints.

Fighting was not going to be easy like this. He could smell sewage and slime climbed up the stone walls. The ground was damp and the only light was creeping under a door. He was possibly underground. Not great, even if he managed to get away, if he was in the sewers he could get lost. Not that he knew where he was but it a problem. So for a plan? Nothing came to mind. Blood dripped down his chin as he bit through his lip. Tears welled but he pushed them back. Crying wouldn't help. Slavers like to see their merchandise cry.

The door swung open heavily. Time up.

"Ah good you're awake," cooed a man with missing teeth and a burn scar on his cheek.

Peter snarled at the man, like a beast. Crying would make them gleeful. Fighting would make them laugh but Peter couldn't not react to this. The smirk on the man's face confirmed this. A hungry, sadistic look gleaming in his eyes and he moved forward, fingers ready to catch Peter.

"Excellent, you have some fire. Well paying customers tend to like that."

"Let me go!" Peter kicked out, pressing himself into the corner as the man grew closer. All logic was fast leaving him as the beast approached. Caging him in.

"No, I don't think I will. You make quite a good looker and I'm hoping to make a good price on your pretty little head," the man sneered, clicking his fingers. The chain's tightened and his legs and arms were restricted. Hands grabbed them and carried him out of the cell, the man chuckling to himself as he marched down the corridor. Screams surrounded them. People begging for mercy, for someone to save them. Shrieks of pain as some of the slavers had their fun with the people trapped in their hell. Peter struggled to no avail.

"You can't do this," He yelled as he was dumped on to a table. Mirrors surrounded them, giving a perfect view of everything that was able to happen. Sharp instruments lay on a table as well as some adult things. Peter wriggled, almost falling off the table but the man only stopped him and fastened a belt around his waist to stop him sliding off.