Please don't feed the children

please don't feed the children chp. 3

His immediate response was expected.

“No.”

He looks over at the prey, her chest moving up and down slowly. There were tears beginning to show in his eyes, so he rubbed them away, obviously embarrassed by them. But he had every right to cry, he shouldn’t be ashamed of that.

“I won’t end up becoming a killer; I’m not one of them.” He says coldly.

I close my eyes. I knew that he wouldn’t do it. Having to take away someone’s life in order to obey people who only have plans to torture you? It was too much. But I had to do it; I could understand the toll it must be taking on him. I didn’t want to see him die before my eyes though.

“If you don’t get rid of the prey, they’ll kill you. You understand that, right?” I let out sharply.

Lane stares at me, eyes angry.  “That is not some hunting trophy.” He snaps, pointing his finger at the scared girl. “She is a person, a real breathing human being. They kept you here so long that you can’t even recognize that.”

He walks towards the prey and crouches down. The fear in her eyes shone. But Lane was not like them, he would never be like them. His heart was to kind to kill.

And it was going to make him end up dead.

Just like the rest of them.

Stroking the prey’s hair gently, she trembled weakly. “It’s okay; I’m not going to kill you.”

I swallowed the growing lump in my throat, reality slapping me across the face. He’s going to die, and I’m going to lose my only connection to the world beyond this prison.

All because of her.

I could feel this intense anger bubbling inside of me, my jaw tightening in response to it.

“So you’re just going to kill yourself, is that it?” I whisper angrily. “All for some girl you don’t even know.”

Lane looks at me, an eyebrow raised.

“You killed, didn’t you?”

I turn away, walking over to the cage door. My fingers scrape against the chipping paint. Bringing up that memory was like pouring salt into an open wound. My teeth bite into my lips, the taste of copper flowing onto my tongue.

“I was scared. I didn’t get what they meant by cleaning up the mess, but when they gave me the knife, I understood.” I choke on a memory, tears trying to break free from my lids. But I hold them back with a slow breath. “They were watching me, telling me if I didn’t do it, I was going to die.”

After the tears recede, I turn back around to him.