CHAPTER 6: HELL
4 years old
Jag is a jack of many trades: black market, smuggling, pirating, bootlegging, and—his favorite—the slave trade. He especially loves it when he finds the young ones because they are easily trained to do as you wish. To his disappointment, he won’t have the time he wants with the young girl he’s trapped in his human market. The people who want her, whoever they are, offered to pay for him to capture her specifically. He finds that very interesting and is only intrigued more by the little blonde girl who cries too much for his liking. When he had finally caught up with her and her mother, he was worried about the open space. With the help of his crew, the kidnapping went better than he would have predicted. He grins at the fond memory as he opens the door to the long hallway full of boys and girls for sale. It’s feeding time.
A tray full of orange peels, an empty yogurt cup, and a moldy piece of bread is shoved through a slot in the door. Summer scoots away from it to sit in the corner and weep. When she was first shoved into the small room, she didn’t understand what was going on. A girl’s soft voice had informed her that she will never see her family again. Summer refuses to believe it.
“That’s your supper,” the voice informs her through the wall.
The room is full of dirt and straw, like she’s some barn animal. Summer gathers the straw around her and squeaks, “That’s supper?”
“Yes. It doesn’t get better so eat.” The girl keeps quiet after that.
Summer kicks the tray away from her in a tantrum. As the room grows dark she curls into a ball, shaking and crying. She doesn’t know where she is or why. But she does know one thing—she misses her mummy.
“Jezz’us!” a male voice growls out. “Keep your ruddy mouth shut.”
She’s hiccupping now and rises to bang on the door. Fear and anger are beginning to rise up like a monstrous tidal wave in her. Her tiny fists slam over and over into the door. There is no knob on her side for her to turn. She screams and shouts, “Let me out! I want my mummy!” Her hands grow sore quickly so she resorts to kicking with all the strength she can muster.
“Bloody hell,” the same man barks, his voice closer now. “I hate new arrivals. Always causin’ us trouble.”
“You have to stop,” the girl’s quivering voice in the other room begs quietly. “They’ll punish you.”
Summer ignores the threat. At home punishment means sitting out for five minutes in shame. Her mum never raised a hand to her. If sitting out for five minutes is all she’ll have to do she’ll take it, as long as they open the door.
“Let me out,” she screams at the top of her lungs, her throat sore from shouting, but refusing to give up. “Let. Me. Out!”
“It’s always the new ones,” mutters the man as the door flings open.
Summer sprints under his arm and takes off down the hallway.
“Blimey,” the man grumbles in surprise.
Summer turns down another hallway, constantly glances over her shoulder, and picks up speed. If she can get outside she’ll be okay. Her mummy taught her how to call the police in emergencies. If this isn’t an emergency, Summer thinks, I don’t know what is. Without warning, she slams into a body and comes to a dead halt. The tall, lanky man looks down at her, and a crooked smile creeps up his lips. Jag’s black eyes shine over with excitement as he holds Summer by the tops of her arms.
“And where’d you think yer going?” He chuckles darkly, his rotten breath filling the air.
The other man rounds the corner, out of breath. “She’s a fast bugger.”
“Is she?” Jag glances down at her, and his scarred face twitches. “Take care of it, Johnny.” He thrusts her into Johnny’s arms, bruising her skin in the process.
Summer gasps, her blue eyes wide as her neck cranes to see Johnny. “My mummy will be angry if I’m not home after dark.” Her voice lacks the defiance she’d hoped for.
“I’m sure she will be,” he says with a laugh and yanks her back down the hallway.
Instead of taking her back to her room, he throws her into a chair outside her room and makes her face away from him and straddle it.
“It’s time for yer punishment. Take the shirt off,” he commands pompously.
Summer visibly shakes, unable to move. Will she have to sit there for five minutes for punishment? The thought of her small prison almost seems welcoming. She catches movement to her right and sees brown eyes peek out of the food slot in the cell next to hers. Tears are visible in the girl’s eyes, and it only makes her more scared. Can’t she sit in timeout in the room?
“Bloody hell,” grounds out Johnny when she doesn’t remove her shirt.
He jerks it over her head violently and tosses it on the straw-littered ground. There are sounds behind her but she doesn’t dare look back. The flap covering the slot of the other girl’s door clinks shut, and that’s when the sound of a crack breaks the still air.
Thwack!
Something sharp connects with her back, and she straightens in reflex to the unbelievable pain. She screams without conscious thought as she hears the crack through the air, and something connects with her skin again.
Thwack!
She flinches away as it strikes again. Another scream erupts from her like a roaring volcano, the stinging force cutting her very essence.
Thwack!
She can feel the welts down to her spine, all the way to the tips of her toes. The shock of each hot, flaming force against her back makes her instinctively reach for her back in protection.
Thwack!
Her fingers catch the next stinging blow. She grounds her teeth together and brings her hands back around to hold close to her chest, writhing in the sensation. One hand bleeds while the other has a red welt that begins to rise on her skin immediately. She gasps for air through each strangled cry as she’s hit again and again. She chances a glance behind her as the whip comes down again and finally wears the top layer of her skin out. It slices wide open like her whole body will crack under the pressure.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! She swears the whip is whispering its manic joy as it slices the air again. Thwack!
She screams out with every crack of the whip, her sensitive skin splitting more with each stinging blow. Soon she can feel blood trickle down her back and soak her pants. Her muscles are in knots, threatening to rip apart as the whip collides with her exposed flesh.
Thwack!
Johnny laughs joyfully as the whip bites into her skin for the tenth time. Summer is no longer able to hold herself up as the throbbing agony consumes and immobilizes her. Her nerves shriek and protest their overwhelming need for the excruciating cracks of the whip to cease. With one more blow against her torn flesh, Summer realizes she has no more screams left in her; throat raw, her last bit of strength melts. Tears are scattered across her face as she lies limply over the chair. When she’s close to passing out the whip ceases. The relief is so pronounced it’s like a flavor on her tongue.
Tearful red eyes peek from the slot on the door next to hers. They speak a million different words, but right then they say, “Welcome to Hell.”