Please don't feed the children

please don't feed the children chp. 4

We barley looked at each other when we entered the cage.

Our imprisonment seemed to lock up the silence with us, forming a wall around both of us. Lane walked over to the corner opposite of me and sat down, eyes focused on the ground trying to block me out. Guilt swirled in my eyes and burned my vision as I blinked away a violent tear. I hold it in and rest my head against the brick. It’s cold and gritty feel did nothing to comfort me.

We lay in silence, everything to talk about but no words escaping our lips. We were frozen, unreachable to the outside world. The only voice we hear is our own, and I know that it is my fault.

Lane hates me, and he deserves to.

My deep and angry stomach growl breaks the stillness, sending ripples of sound into our room. I rub my ribs nervously, hunger evident in my body. They hadn’t fed us in a while, and I knew that Lane must’ve been as hungry as I was right now. Usually they fed us every few days, but I was only the scraps that were left after they finished eating their food.

Our bathroom wasn’t in great condition either. It was just a bucket near the door of our cell. Its smell was awful, so we tend to keep a good distance away from it. Anytime that either of us dared to go over was when absolutely necessary. We only got bathed every two weeks or so with a bucket of ice cold water that chilled us to the bone.

My stomach growled madly again so I pull a knot out of my tangled red-brown hair to distract me from hunger. Once my hair was partially smoothed out, I crept my eyes over to Lane, but they aren’t matched by his hazel ones. His face is tucked deep into his knees, small gasps of breath being sucked in by his pink lips. His shirt that I remember being an astonishing white was now dirty and gray; small rips exposing parts of his pale chest. His black skinny jeans were torn slightly on the left pant leg and obviously under the distress of being over used.

His ribs shaking furiously interrupted my concentration, his sharp intake of breath breaking the silence that consumed the air. A whimper escapes his soft lips, pale arms tightening around his legs. My eyes travel up to his black hair; the soft black locks I once envied were now twisted and crusted with dirt. I look down to his strong jaw which was now covered in dark stubble, desperately in need of a shave.

His body vibrated once again, realization dawning on me that Lane was suffering from a nightmare. My face drops to the floor and I immediately think about what I did for him, how different our perception of my actions was. His reality of this world, this nightmare that he was living out could be ten times magnified in his dreams.

Even when he did wake up, it wouldn’t change the fact that he was stuck in this horror.

I crawl over to him and hesitantly wrap my arms around him. I inhale sharply from the chill in his arms. The goose bumps in his arms smooth away at my warmth, his shakes calming down instantly. My forehead matches his as I leaned down to his stature. His warm breath hits my neck when I feel his arms wrap around my waist. I try not to breathe from the icy feel of his hands. Heat flushes into my cheeks, but I don’t bother to leave his embrace. I move my head onto his shoulder gently. Our heat vibrated against each other, fighting to be one as it traveled up into the air. I shut my eyes and feel the hum of Lane’s heart in my ears, his beats fast and stressed. I can hear Lane whisper, still deep in a dream.