Cataclysm

0.8

When I woke up the next morning, Braken still hadn't come back, and I started to worry. What if they'd killed him?

Leo had noticed, too, and was now pacing back and forth across his cage. He couldn't keep his hands out of his hair, and every time I caught sight of one of the braids, the braids Braken had done, my worry deepened and my chest hurt.

Finally, they brought him back. I could hear the crackling of electricity as they came closer. I looked up and inhaled sharply as I saw the condition he was in, and my heart hurt even more.

His eyes were bloodshot, like he hadn't slept in days, and one of them was almost swollen shut. His arms and face were covered in cuts and bruises, and his hair was matted to his forehead with blood. There was dried blood smeared across his face from his nose, and his bottom lip was split open and still bleeding. He kept playing with it with his tongue, licking it as if cleaning himself up.

His wrists were cuffed together with a long piece of wood, with only two holes for his wrists. It reminded me of the stocks from medieval times that I'd read about in books. He couldn't put his hands together, and he couldn't touch the wood to disintegrate it. He had his fists halfway closed, and he held them up against his chest in a protective manner. He had his hoodie on again, but the sleeves were rolled up and I could see the black and purple bruises covering his arms, almost as bad as his face. As they shoved him toward us, I noticed that his ankle hadn't been properly fixed - it was straightened out now, but it was swollen to nearly double its original size, most definitely broken. He looked up as he must've heard my distress, and managed to give me a ghost of a smile.

"Braken?" Leo whispered, almost in disbelief. "What ... what did they do to you?"

The soldiers shoved him into his cage before he could answer, and he stumbled and fell, only letting out a gasp for breath as he hit awkwardly on his side. The soldiers slammed the door shut and he flinched, sucking on his lip and keeping his eyes on the floor.

"Braken, what did they do to you?" Leo asked, louder. I could barely see him from his position on the floor, but I heard him let out a small groan as he sat up. Slowly, he climbed to his feet, though he kept his weight off of his broken ankle, and rested against the window. Leo immediately reached through the bars and gently touched his bruised and bloodied face. "Oh, Braken, how could they do this?" he whispered.

Braken kept his eyes down and lifted his hands up, trying to sign something even though he could barely move them in the board. He grimaced as he curled his fingers, but ignored it and tried again. This time, he let out a strangled yelp and squeezed his eyes shut.

"What's wrong?" I asked softly, instantly regretting it as Leo hissed at me to shut up.

The silent boy paused, and then opened his palms and held them flat out. I caught my breath and covered my mouth, and Leo let out a small cry of despair. Braken's hands were covered in red and brownish blisters, all up his fingers, across his palms, down to his wrists. His skin was torn and mangled, a few filling with puss, most of them ripped open and bleeding. I could almost see the soldiers forcing his hands against the heated metal plate, almost smell the burning flesh, but I could clearly hear his crying, the sizzling of his hands against the metal, and the soldiers' laughing at his pain.

"They did this on purpose," Leo said, his voice wavering. "They did it so you wouldn't be able to talk to me." He started to cry, furiously rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, clenching his teeth. "I hate them. I hate them!"

Braken shook his head and tried to say something, biting his lip and then wincing. He made two simple symbols with his hand, cringed, and then tried again, making them more defined.