The Prophet's Daughter (Black Army Sequel)

Chapter 28- In the Eyes of the Beholder

Chapter 28- In the Eyes of the Beholder

The next morning, the door to the exam room opened before Abbie had the chance to wake up. She opened her eyes and saw the soldiers standing in the doorway with Angela, shivering from the cold early morning air. Abbie slid off the exam table and covered her chest with her arms, like Angela. The girls were marched out of the building and into the freezing rain. They were led into a building that looked eerily similar to the one where Abbie had been branded as a horse in the last camp. They were pushed into a room with multiple round, tile tubs big enough to fit a very well-fed grown man. The girls were each lifted up and thrown in a tub, which started filling up with boiling hot water. Abbie bit her lip and tried her best to ignore the pain of the scolding hot water burning her skin.

“What’s the matter, too hot?” one of the soldiers taunted. He lifted her by the hair to make her sit up and started scrubbing her soft skin furiously with hard, scratchy soap until it turned pink from the friction. Abbie did her best to pretend that it didn’t hurt, but it was hard to hide the tears uncontrollably rolling down her cheeks. He lifted her feet out from under her, practically making her down. She fought to keep her head above the water. He finally let her have her feet back and pulled her head back over the edge. He poured freezing cold water over her head, which smoked and made her shiver from the contrast of boiling hot water to ice cold. He rubbed shampoo into her scalp, getting soap in her eyes and scratching her scalp with his fingernails. After, he dunked her head in the scolding water, rinsing away the last of the soap. A group of soldiers dragged her out of the tub, wet and shaking, to where Angela, who was also dripping wet and shivering violently, was standing.

“Aww, look at the poor girls. They look like little, wet puppies,” one of the soldiers taunted. Abbie and Angela stood close to one another, standing quietly while the soldiers poked at their bodies and teased them. After about a half hour, the girls were finally almost dry, and were led into the next room. It was all white with a platform that had rough-looking wooden chairs with metal cuffs for hands and feet. Angela and Abbie looked at one another and gulped. They were thrown onto the platform and forcefully shoved into the chairs. They tried to get up, but their hands and feet were quickly bound to the chair. They couldn’t break free no matter how hard they tried, and the harder they tried, the more rough, wooden splinters poked into their skin. The soldiers gathered around the platform, taking in their bodies with greedy, perverted eyes. A man jumped onto the platform and looked between the two girls. He walked over to Angela, smirking, and pulled out a knife. He held it up so the rest of the soldiers could see. They cheered him on. He pulled a section of Angela’s hair so her head was glued to the back of the chair, causing her to gasp in shock, and sliced off a piece of her hair with the knife, letting it fall into her naked lap. Abbie shuttered. A different man got onto the platform and grinned at Abbie. He pulled out his own knife and sliced away a chunk of her hair. He let the black strands fall onto her chest and his yellow grin grew wider. Soon, all of the soldiers were on the platform, trying to get a chance to snip away at the girls’ hair and to eye their exposed bodies up close. Abbie tightly shut her eyes and wrapped her hands around the end of the armrest of the chair. By the time they were done, the girls were left with short, uneven stubs where their hair had been. Abbie opened her eyes and looked at Angela, who looked back at her. They looked terrible, like they were dying of a ruthless disease. Just when they thought they were done, two men walked onto the platform. One went over to Angela, the other Abbie. Both had electric clippers in their hands. They grabbed hold of what was left of the girls’ hair and pulled it up. They held the guard-less machines up to the roots of the hair and looked at the rest of the soldierss, smiling slightly. The onlookers cheered the men on as they started buzzing away the last of the girls’ hair. Abbie closed her eyes and winced every time the man carelessly let the razor dig into her scalp. She clenched her fists and shuddered every time the loud buzzing noise came close to her ear. It sounded like a thousand bees attacking her head, and she would’ve done anything to make it stop. After what felt like a century, the men turned their razors off. One of them walked up to Abbie and smiled.

“You look adorable, now. Much better,” he smirked, lifting her chin and examining her head. Abbie broke free of his grip and tried to bite him.

“We gotta’ feisty one on our hands!” one of the men in the crowd shouted. The other man nodded and ran a finger over her bare stomach thoughtfully. She shuddered. He smirked at her again and undid her restraints, slapping her butt as she walked past him. Abbie ran over to Angela, who rubbed the girls shoulder protectively as they were shooed into the next room. They were both wrestled down to the ground and held there by big, muscular men. An old woman looked down at Abbie and smiled at her.

“Put her on the table,” she whispered. The men that were holding her lifted her onto the table and held her down. The old woman pulled out Abbie’s wrist and turned on what looked like a tattoo needle. Abbie had went with Andy when he had gotten a tattoo of a horse, in her honor, on his back, and the machine looked like it, but not as bloody. She sighed at the thought of Andy. The woman began writing across Abbie’s forearm. Abbie couldn’t contain herself, she let out a yelp from the pain, but didn’t try to squirm free. She knew the men could break any one of her bones easily. When the woman was done, Abbie was set on the floor. She collapsed on the cold tile, hugging her knees to her chest. She desperately whished that she could go home. She looked at the tattoo. It read “A850-H.” Abbie heard heavy boots come over to her and saw a shadow towering over her. She felt a sharp pain in her back where the shadow’s boot made contact with her soft, bare skin.

“Get up!” a harsh voice ordered. Abbie stood up and refused to look at the man. He threw a bra and underwear, a black tank top, and black jean shorts that looked way too short at her. “Put those on,” he said as he turned away. Abbie quickly obeyed, glad to be covered again. She still didn’t have any shoes, but it was better than nothing. Angela soon joined her, clad in similar clothes, with a tattoo of her own on her wrist that read “A648-C.” The girls were marched out of the room and into the pouring rain. The cold water felt strange on Abbie’s hairless head. She rubbed it and sighed. There was a trailer waiting for them a few feet away.

“Animals,” the Russian general, who had seemed to appear out of nowhere, ordered the girls. Abbie tried her best not to smile. After all that happened, she wouldn’t mind staying a horse forever. She was at least more powerful. She willingly obeyed, as did Angela. A soldier slipped a purple nylon halter with a matching lead rope over her head and pulled her onto the trailer, soldiers pushing her forward from behind as well. She was tied to a plastic ring and the soldier went back to Angela, who was once again muzzled and thrown into a cage. This time, no one sat in the trailer with the girls.

“See you in hell,” the man who closed the door to the trailer said, a crooked smile painted across his face as the door screamed shut.