Obedience

Cries, those deathly cries and those inhuman screams ricochet of the walls. They make my ears bleed and discourage any chance I had of sleeping. But at least it isn't me tonight, I am safe until the next nightfall.

As the sun's rays seep over the horizon and through the cracked walls the screams fade away, only the echos and shadows are left to remind us of the witching hour. One day it will be my turn to suffer by the hands of those gruesome men, and when that day comes I will escape by the cover of darkness because I refuse to die like the ones before me.

It feels as if it was years ago I was sent away to this 'boarding school' of torture but in truth it has only been a couple months. Every night and day I wish and hope my parents or anyone in general would come and pick me up, save me from the wretched after hours, but that is an impossible and useless dream for we were sent here because no one cares about us anymore. We were sent to our deaths.

The day starts to move along, and per usual no one dares to speak a word. Three have vanished during the night, we will never see them again because once a girl disappears she is gone forever. It would be silly to believe that those girls get happy ending considering the fact it was their hateful, ear-piercing screams that were heard throughout the halls in those cold and miserable hours leading up to dawn.

The day comes and goes like a gust of wind. A pathetic and minuscule plate of food is distributed among us. Like savages, we fight for the biggest piece of bread, wasting whatever energy we had left in the process. In the end, all the bread got ripped up into many crumb sized pieces. Like beasts we lick the floor, in hopes of getting at least some food into our empty, growling stomachs.  

It doesn't take long for the sun to set, and for the darkness to appear. Non of the girls, including me, dare move a muscle as we wait for the death sentences. In this unbearable silence it is easy to hear the heavy, monotone footsteps approaching us. With every step they grow steadily louder, a drum of death that is the opening act for the upcoming opera. 

The heavy metal door that keeps us locked in this shack opens with a resounding groan. Like always, the man calls out the names of three girls in a deep and slow voice, "Amelia, Catherine, Talia." Deep sighs of relief are heard all around me. Only two other girls and I are still holding our breaths and shaking ever so slightly, for we are tonight's sacrifices.

In the next second, the colossal man grabs Amelia and Catherine in one swift motion but before he lunges at me, I make a break for it. I run.