The Forest Behind Bars

Chapter III: The pain

I do not answer him, I just wait for time to pass.

If my calculations are right, that means around a week has passed since he visited. He normally comes once a week. Sometimes he forgets or just doesn't bother.

When he doesn't come, I get more rest, but at the same time I feel more restless. I do not know how long passes. I think they do it on purpose, to mess with our minds. He enjoys this. I hate him.

I hear footsteps. My head does not turn. He does not deserve my attention. But my ears peek up, anyway. One pair of heavier boots, and two slightly lighter ones.

The metal door creaks open and they step inside. While the two guards wear their standard uniform, the guy in the middle is different.

His outfit doesn't have navy blue in it, but a bronze cape over a beige shirt. He wears black pants and heavy black boots.

He is the leader of them. Or something like their chief. Which is why I named him Chief.

His heavy footsteps are the only ones that continue the path past our dirty cells. He stops at each cell to check if we are still here, miserably and hopeless.

He is the reason this place is so depressed, by snatching, or beating, any hope away.

Finally, he reaches my cell. His boots halt in front of my cell and turn my way.

''How is my precious monster doing?'' He tauntingly asks. I do not respond. That annoys him, and he steps up closer to the bar.

''Avery,'' he uses my name in mocking, ''Stand up.''

He uses that voice, the one who orders prisoners into pain and death. Prisoners who annoyed him.

I hate doing this, but I have little choice. I am no one here. No one but a tool for pain. The last thing I want is to be beaten and get infected.

I stand up and raise my head high. I might not be anyone here, but outside I was someone. They cannot undo the past that has shaped me.

My eyes look indifferent and shield the broken women inside.

He chuckles; ''There we go. Now I heard you got a neighbor? Does he remind you of anyone?''

He does remind me of someone, but I will never again let him know how to hurt me. His question makes me wonder again what the boy did to end up here. How Chief puts it, I get the feeling he placed him here to torture me. Maybe the boy didn't do anything, but simply look like someone else.

I keep quiet, lock my muscles and hope he leaves without doing any damage.

He turns around to look at the boy staring up with wild, scared eyes. I can almost see Chief light up at the fear in them. Foolish boy.

''So, tell me, boy, do you like your cell?''

He looks uncertain and glances at me, as if I will help him. I all but roll my eyes and wait for Chief's next move.

Unfortunately, he notices the boy's glace and a small smile reaches his lips. I swear this man gets too much pleasure in hurting others to be sane.

''Do you feel bad for her? Did you hear her screams?'' The boy doesn't answer. ''I am getting tired of carrying this conversation, you know?'' The stupid boy stays quiet and just looks with his big, fearful eyes.

I know what follows. He does not, but Chief is about to teach him.

Chief turns his head to the two guards who stand at the entrance. One of them reaches for their keys and throws it at him.

My eyes track the keys as they fly through the hall. I refrain myself from sticking my arm through the bars in hopes of catching it.

I shudder at the memory of my broken arm. It had taken a long time to heal. Lesson learned.

The chief catches the keys with one hand and unlocks the boy's cell. I know what follows, so do the other creatures down here. The boy is new, so logically doesn't know yet. Perhaps I should've told him. Protected this boy I do not know, maybe his doppelgänger could forgive me.

Chief steps into the cell, not bothering to close the door. The boy steps back. His eyes find mine again, and my gaze softens as if apologising. This seems to make him realize what is happening at the same time the fist hits his cheek.

As I watch him get beat, I relive one of my terrible memories. I see him get hit repeatedly until blood spills and his skin rips.

I do not know how long this goes on, but Chief stops and grabs the boy by the neck of his torn shirt. He pulls him out of his cell and slams him into the bars of my cell. The boy is in so much pain, one of his eyes is almost swelled shut, and there is blood on his face. I can already feel the bruises he will get.

I try my best not to respond, but I flinch anyway.

This seems to please Chief, and he asks again: ''Now does he remind you of someone?''

I lock my body and keep quiet. If I talk, I might throw up or start threatening him, which would lead to another beating.

The boy whimpers as he gets thrown back into his cell with a laugh.

I feel miserable watching it.