Badlands

The Bull Pen

My eyes opened suddenly. I gasped for breath. Cold water slid down my skin, chilling me to the bones. I tried to pull my arms forward, before I realized my sore limbs were chained to the rusty wall. I looked up through my dark, dirty hair to see two tall, muscular men in front of me.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead." They chuckled, wicked grins spreading across their faces. I refused to answer, and just began to scowl and sneer.

"Not a talkative one, eh?" The taller man chuckled. "Your friend sure was." My eye caught the glint of Oliver's golden compass.

"Where is he?" I growled.

"You might see him later. Might not recognize him though," The two men laughed. I watched through swollen eyes. The taller one was bald, and more muscular. His voice was rough, and low. The other's dirty blond hair was shaved on the sides, and brushed back. They both carried large guns, and the one on the right held a key, and more shackles. I pulled at my wrists and ankles. My sore muscles twitched and buckled. The clanking of chains turned their attention back to me. The bald one smiled with crooked teeth. "Well, it looks like it's time to earn your keep." The blond one walked forward, keys in hand. He unlocked the chains from my arms, before adding two shackles that kept my arms constrained behind my back. I struggled, but in my weakened state, he was too strong for me. He attached new shackles to my ankles, and new chains to all four cuffs. He pushed me forward, the chains pulling on my skin. I was considered an animal. I was to be leashed and caged. Just wait, I'll show you fuckers an animal.

He lead me out a cell and through rusted hallways and corridors. I looked on, seeing more people liked me. Men and women, young and old, most starving and waiflike. Large eyes in dark and sunken sockets looked back at me. But as we progressed further, I saw more muscular people. They seemed healthier, but still not well taken care of. Out of one room came laughing, I could only assume my captors were gathered there. After continuing to follow the rusted path, he shoved me into a small room. About 15 women and children sat in there, hunched over tables. Harsh lights beat down on them. I could see some tools, needles, thread, and some soap. A large tub of water was in the center, washboards lined up around the edges. Baskets full of clothes were lined up near the wall. Some women, controlled by leashes and carrying empty baskets pushed past us. I was pushed forward, the blond jailer taking the chains and attaching them to one of the tables. I looked up at him, and he flashed a grin. "Have fun." He closed the door behind him. I stood there for a second, all eyes on me. A guard watched from the back corner.

"Come on everyone, back to work!" A woman, a little older than me shouted and the other immediately got back to their tasks, she walked over to me, her chains pulled taut. "I'm Iona."

"Smiles."

"Let me show you the ropes."

She spent the entire day explaining, how to sew, where everything was, who everyone was.

"Lanna, she's been here awhile. She's really sweet, but it might take awhile for her to warm up to you."

After the day was done, I was lead back to a cell by one of our captors. Only my ankle was chained to the wall this time. I rubbed the red and chafed skin on my wrists. Cold metal surrounded me. The walls seemed to close in on me. The iron walls and door trapping me. And then that door opened. A man was thrown in. Messy blond hair fell over his face. The guard walked in and locked his ankle chain to a wall. After the door was shut, the man lifted his head. His eyes were so swollen and black and blue it looked like he couldn't see. His face was covered in cuts and bruises. His shirt and pants were torn and covered in dirt and blood.