Lost

Chapter 24

Belle’s POV

My breath is taken away as a peck of light shines through the opening.

They’re letting me out!

Each second my excitement grows-I have never desired fresh, clean, air so much in my entire life. The instant I catch sight of the opening hole at the top of the sack, I poke my head through and breathe in the fresh-wait a second, the air is not fresh and clean. I open my eyes to see the horror of it all. My excitement soon drains away, along with the remaining ounce of hope I had and ever will have left. I try to make out my surroundings, but it is just too awful. Out of everything I have experienced in the past month, this by far has to be the worst. It is bad enough to have to be an observer to this-this madness, but to be  a part of it? No. Words can’t even describe the many emotions I feel right now. There is no way I am ever going to get back to the life I once had. Things are about to get so much worse. I can already tell. The horrific display in front of me makes my eyes water without control-I just have to let it out in some way. Then I am reminded that once again, though I am alone, I really, in a way, am not. The inappropriate chuckling strikes my ears again and this time I am infuriated with it. I manage to wriggle my way out of the security of the sack to a world where safety is one of the many things this place seems to lack. After one final grunt, I look up to see several grim faces staring down at me. Suddenly, I am not so angry-it’s back to being terrified. To them I am probably some lost little, vulnerable girl with leaves and dirt in her messy brown tangle of hair, a mud smeared face, a now off-white, almost brown, dress, and many scratches and bruises on my arms and legs, now sitting on the floor with a blank look on her face. To me, I saw a bunch of meanies who wanted to put me to work. Work. Yes. I am in a place that looks a lot like a factory filled with children. A factory that likes to work little boys and girls, like me, to death. A factory that I have somehow ended up in. A factory I am probably going to be living in and a factory that I might never get out of.

Oh My Gosh.

My eyes gaze off to the dim-lighted room.

Is this a basement? Why am I in a basement?

The low ceiling is lacking in any light fixtures, and instead includes many leaks that you can clearly see because of all the wet patches and big gaping holes that expose the many layers of insulation. Next my gaze wanders to the gray stoned floor that is littered with dust, grime, metal pieces, needles, and other broken bits of glass and such. It’s no surprise when I feel something prick my hand and  trigger a drop of blood. I wince in pain, just for a brief second, when I feel more eyes on me. I turn around to find myself in the middle of a work station of rug makers. Everyone is staring at me. All the girls look at me with such sorrow that I feel bad for them. Then I realize that they are looking at me like that because they feel bad for me. There are only a few boys and they don’t even dare to look my way; they continue to weave the beautiful rugs that one can find in any department store and even the floor of my old house. I stare at their sad faces, soaking in every bit of sadness, and then, like a rain cloud, I let it rain-I shed my tears for them, not me, but them.

“Like the place? I think it speaks for itself.” One of the guys nods at the place as if it is an actual sight to behold. There isn’t even enough light in the place to see anything. The only source of light is one broken lamp that flickers every ten seconds because the light bulb is going to burn out soon.

“Yes I think rotting walls really do say something, don’t they?” Another one of them continues to aimless conversation just for the fun of it, as if they have nothing better to get back to.

“Hey guys. I don’t wanna be makin’ a fuss over nuthin’ but that lamp is dying.” The third one mentions his observations with such a heavy low accent it sounds like every words he says is slurred and nearly inaudible; though, this is still the most intelligent thing I have heard from the couple of them yet.