Branded

by Abi Ketner

  “Are you hungry?” He sounds concerned, but maybe my mind is beginning to play tricks on me.

  “No, not at all.”

  “You should eat when it’s offered. Most people have to scrounge for it, so consider yourself lucky,” he says as he crosses the room.

  “I’m far from lucky.” I collapse on the scrawny mattress and let my hair explode out of my ponytail. My body aches. I pull my pant legs up to inspect the scrapes while kicking off the thin slippers. “You can leave now.” My fingers scratch at the dry blood; then I lie back on my mattress.

  “That’s not gonna happen. For the next forty-eight hours you’re on suicide watch.”

  He’s too close to me, so I sit upright. “What?”

  “I can’t leave you alone,” he says.

  “As if coming here isn’t bad enough. I’m already on the camera, so what difference does it make? And why do they care if I die?” I say directly into the camera.

  He throws his bag into the corner of the room and takes off his boots.

  “And don’t worry. I have no desire to touch you, so don’t get your panties all twisted.” He stands across from me with his arms folded over his chest. I really wish I had something to throw at him.

  “What I’d really like is a shower. Would you mind leaving me alone for that?”

  “Yes,” he says. “Actually, I do mind. Orders are orders.”

  Man, this guy is full of himself. They’re purposely torturing me.

  He opens the metal door on the right side of my quarters to an adjoining room. He flicks on two lights which cast their brightness into my space. I lean forward from my mattress and attempt to peek inside, but he leaves the door cracked only a few inches. It looks very simple, but much cleaner than my quarters.

  “Is that your room?” I ask.

  “Yes,” he says while looking around the corner at me. My discomfort hits an all-time high.

  This crosses the line. Placing my head in my hands, I shake it with disbelief.

  “What’s your problem?” he asks.

  I give him a skeptical look. “Nothing.”

  “Be thankful you aren’t on the street where you belong.” His harsh tone sends prickles up my spine.

  He thinks I’m a whore, too.

  As I wallow in pity, I notice a stray ribbon of sunlight peeking through a window next to the bathroom in my room. Eager for natural light and wanting to see outside, I pull the dusty blinds away and use my forearm to clear a small circle in the filth. From here, I can see people loitering around the building and women standing on the corner two blocks down.

  “Are the women on the corner prostitutes?” I read about it before but never thought it existed until I arrived.

  “Yes. That’s their job.” He picks at a fingernail, standing in the doorway with the door cracked, like it’s not a big deal.

  “That’s terrible. Do they get paid?”

  “In a way. You’re lucky you weren’t chosen for that detail.”

  “I’m not sure luck exists here.” I push away from the window. My body trembles from all the emotions of today, and I need rest.

  “Tomorrow we’ll go over all the details and I’ll show you around,” he says. “You should clean up and try to rest.”

  I nod, unable to speak.

  At his suggestion, I venture over to my metal sink. I pull the dirty curtain aside and turn on the faucet. After a high-pitched screeching noise that sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard, cold water spills out, and it’s the best feeling I’ve had in days. I splash my face, my cuts, and my neck and then furiously wash my arms.

  I glance at the small, cracked mirror mounted above the sink and see a stranger. My hair flies around in an untamed mess, and the soot from the street makes my face unrecognizable except for the turquoise of my eyes. Blood and dirt form a thick paste on my skin, so I scrub it raw. When finished, I wipe my hands on my clothes. I turn and catch Cole watching.

  I snap my head back around as fear pulses through me with the weight of his dark eyes on me. Any moment, he could try to take advantage of the situation, so I tread carefully.

  “I’m not going to kill myself.” I raise my hands, palms facing him, as if claiming innocence. Cole shakes his head, puts his hands in his pockets, and remains where he is.

  “Don’t you have a wife, girlfriend, or someone to go home to?” I ask, trying to make light conversation.

  “Come on, you know better than that.” He raises his eyebrow. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

  “Oh, right,” I say. I watch him for a response, but he says nothing. I should know the hardest and most proficient guards work in here. I can’t imagine working here and not becoming desensitized to the violence.

  I hope I never become like that.

  A muffled whine escapes Cole’s room and a bewildered expression crosses his face as we lock eyes.

  “Is there someone in your room?”

  “No.” He slams the door closed behind him. Sensing irritability on his part, I let the subject drop. I lie down on the mattress, curling into a ball. He fidgets in my room, fumbles for the door, and leaves it ajar. I’m pretending to be asleep when he leaves. He turns off my light, but I know there’s no way I’ll sleep tonight.

  * * *

  I must’ve passed out at some point because when I wake, I’m on my stomach and my neck cramps from the lack of a pillow. So I readjust, turning my face to the other side. A warm breath hits my face, tickling my nose.

  I freeze.

  Clinking of metal inches from my face, followed by the scraping of nails on the wall causes me to panic. Thinking it might be a rat, I sit up in a flash and try swatting it away. But it’s bigger and doesn’t move.

  My heart pounds and I’m unsure what to do.

  It can’t be Cole.

  I panic. I reach around, feeling for anything I can use to protect myself. Nothing, of course… I have nothing.

  “HELP!”

  The very instant I scream, the beast starts to howl.

  “Zeus, shut up,” Cole yells as he crashes into my room. He flicks on the light, and that’s when I completely lose it.

  CHAPTER 3

  Jumping back in the corner, I yank my legs in and squeeze them tight to my chest. I can’t breathe; my lungs won’t expand. My eyes open wide with fear. The monster stops howling and looks at me with his big brown eyes. His pointed ears stand at attention, and his sharp teeth shine in the dim moonlight.

  “Zeus, what the hell’s your problem?” Cole yells. “I told you not to leave my room, you—ah, whatever.” He grabs the silver chain around Zeus’s neck and pulls him off my mat. The creature’s claws scrape along the floor as Cole drags him back. “Sit! And stay there before I kill you.” Cole leans down and snaps his fingers before my frozen eyes, but it’s no use. All I see are razor-sharp teeth protruding from its mouth and white foam dripping to the floor.

  It’s going to eat me. I’m sure of it.

  “Meet Zeus, my crap-for-brains guard dog.” He smacks the so-called dog across his head. Zeus snaps at his hand, but Cole’s quick reflexes prevent him from biting anything but air. “Don’t talk to him. He only listens to me… So I strongly suggest you don’t try to pull anything stupid. Like make him attack me. It won’t work.”

  Then why tell me?

  I examine Zeus with cautious eyes, unsure what to think of him. “I’ve never seen a horse, I mean, dog with—”

  “He’s a Great Dane,” he snaps at me and then flicks the light on. “Stay seated.”

  Is he talking to the dog or me?

  Zeus has a fawn coat with a black mask, eye rims, and eyebrows. He’s like a miniature horse. He turns toward me, licks my face, and looks down as he pushes his forehead to mine. I hold my breath. He tasted me and now I wait for him to eat me. He growls.

  “Zeus, I think she gets the point. You’re a badass. Now go lay down,” Cole says.

  My filthy floor disgusts even the dog because he takes one glance, move
s a foot, and slips. Then he slowly makes his way back toward Cole’s room.

  I need to get his slobber off my face… “I have to use the bathroom,” I say.

  “So go. I don’t need a play-by-play,” Cole says with a yawn.

  I stumble to my bathroom. Fear climbs in my throat as I wash my face and attempt to use the restroom. No toilet paper hangs on the roll.

  Good thing I only have to pee.

  I pull up my pants, tie them in place, and yank open the curtain to find Cole leaning against the wall, almost asleep. His usual stern expression melts away as he nods forward and catches himself. Blinking back sleep, he looks around, eyes me, and retires back to his room, shutting the door completely this time.

  I lie back down on my mattress, breathing deeply to calm myself, and then curl up like a kitten. The heavy fingers of rest push my eyelids down only to be interrupted by an unfamiliar voice. Half asleep, I think the voice comes from within my dream, but when it repeats itself, I startle into consciousness.

  “Skank! We know you’re in there,” says a screechy voice.

  “Slut! Open the door,” says a second voice. “We’ve been dreaming about touching you all night… We promise to be gentle.” They laugh.

  I sit up, my heart pounding against my chest, and press against the wall. Do I sit tight or call Cole? Their hands fiddle with the door, and I swallow hard, trying to decide what to do.

  “I’m gonna ride you till the sun comes—”

  “Leave!” Cole’s voice demands from the other side of my door. “Now.”

  The men chuckle. “Oh, I almost forgot,” the deep voice says with sarcasm. “The guards get the first lay… How could we forget? Damn, she must be number—”

  “Get the hell out of here before I smash in your skulls,” Cole says.

  “All right… all right… chill… Just be sure to let us know when she’s back on the market.” Their laughter fades away. “That body of hers is to die for.”

  The door opens from the main hallway, and I shrink into the shadows, but instead of strangers, Cole walks in. He gives me a tired look of annoyance as he places a small paper bag onto my windowsill.

  “Out of all the sins, you had to go and pick lust?”

  His question irritates me. I have to swallow the dry lump in my throat before I can answer. “You know nothing about me.”

  “Well, then, enlighten me.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and cocks his head. “If I’m supposed to keep these lunatics off you, then I deserve an answer.”

  “Why? No one else believes me.” I breathe deep, trying to stem the tide of emotions that surge over me. “When you look at me… like everyone else, you see nothing but blue.”

  His eyes dart to the floor. “What happened to you?” His question catches me off-balance and the muscles in my neck tighten. I wrap my arms around myself, waiting for the darkness.

  I’m in a closet. Waiting, waiting, waiting. What I’m waiting for is always the unknown. The sharp stab in the pit of my stomach causes me to double over. I feel his presence. I hear his breathing. I want to run, but there’s nowhere to go. I want to scream, but no one can hear me.

  And there’s my mother, standing in her sequined dress, decorated in that gaudy jewelry he bought her. She’s jealous of me for some warped reason. I’d give anything to change the past—to be free of this pain. I never wanted to be the focus of my stepfather’s attention—his adoration. I’ve done nothing wrong, but my mother doesn’t see it that way. She wants me dead. He wants me alive so he can control me.

  “Snap out of it!” Cole’s voice brings me back. My hands shake as I rub my eyes and crawl onto my mattress. “Geez, I only asked what happened to you and you go all psycho on me.”

  I take a deep breath. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. I’ll never tell anyone about it again, especially you.”

  Cole stares at me with a knowing look and raises his eyebrow. “Let me see if I can remember… My report says you were caught having premarital sex and your partner jumped out of your window. But you refused to turn him in.” His voice sounds inquisitive. “Leaving you the only one to brand for the sin.”

  “Believe what you want,” I say with a shaky voice. I’ve never been good at masking my emotions, although I try really hard.

  “So, you’re not gonna defend yourself?”

  “My bedroom was eight floors up in a High Society building. I think it’s reasonable to conclude that a naked boy with broken legs would’ve been caught… but I bet your report didn’t give you those details,” I say, holding my voice steady for once.

  He shakes his head, tucks in his T-shirt, and fixes his belt. “There’s no such thing as reasonable. Go to sleep,” he says before leaving my room.

  I’ve been trying!

  In the darkness, my throat constricts and my muscles lock in place. I can’t see a thing, but I hear everything—the drip, drip, dripping from the bathroom and the tap, tap, tapping as rain hits my window. Screams from outside bounce off my walls and then moaning from the hallway joins in. I shake my head, pry open my throat, and take a breath. Propelling myself off my mattress, I stand at Cole’s door with my hands at my side. It seems weak, but I hate being in the dark. I give in and knock.

  “Now what?” he asks.

  “I can’t sleep,” I say.

  “And that’s my problem how?”

  “It’s not.” I bite my lip. “Would it be all right if I kept my light on?”

  “Whatever,” he says.

  I draw my knees up to my chin, wrap my arms around my small frame, and start to count the cement blocks that make up my walls. My imagination runs wild with every noise in the building and the screams from outside. I hope this nightmare ends soon.

  * * *

  A screaming siren jolts me awake. Did I fall asleep? I leap to my feet and look outside, accidentally knocking over the paper bag on the windowsill. It clatters to the cold floor. I unfold the top and pull out a roll that’s hard as cement.

  Disgusting.

  I throw it and begin to shake. Biting my tongue, I try to bury myself in the corner. I have nothing but these walls to protect me, and no one but myself to watch my back. I’ll never be able to fight my way out because what lives outside is worse than what is in here.

  A shower will help clear my mind.

  I turn on the faucet for a long while only to discover ice-cold water rushing out. The water never warms and I begin to understand. The commander thinks he can wash away my soul by freezing me to death in the shower. He thinks he can destroy me by stripping away my possessions. But he can’t and I won’t let him take my memories, my ambition, and my pride.

  He thinks I’m so easily broken.

  The commander doesn’t know anything about me, what I grew up with, what I endured—the father I lost, the mother I hate, the brother who walked out of my life, and the stepfather I was forced to accept. He thinks since I was rich, making me poor will cause me to give up. What he doesn’t understand is that, after my father passed away, I grew up behind walls of hatred. I had nothing yet everything at the same time. I owned expensive clothes, enjoyed good schooling, and lived in a nice home. But my body was just a shell protecting an empty, desperate heart. My life was a colorful façade.

  I had so much time to sit and think. I spent the majority of my life between four walls. I was abandoned, neglected, starved, betrayed, and abused. I’ve already been treated like the scum of the earth, so the Hole is nothing new. He wants to erase every sign of my existence on this earth, but I won’t let that happen. He can strip me naked, but he’ll never reach my soul.

  It’s personal, completely personal.

  I squeeze the excess water from my hair and slip back into my old scrubs. I tiptoe back to my mat only to find it occupied by Zeus.

  Great! How did that happen?

  I don’t want him in my room, but I’m unsure of what to do. When he looks at me, his brown eyes widen, his tail whips back and forth, and his ears stand at atte
ntion. I wonder what he thinks of me. I don’t know why I care, but I do.

  He releases his gaze and drops his head. I comb my fingers through my hair and remain standing.

  Cole steps inside my room through the open door from his bedroom. His eyes narrow at me as he shakes his head. He opens his mouth, then closes it, and scratches the back of his neck. Then he shrugs his shoulders and closes the door behind him again.

  Weird.

  I don’t know what to expect, but it seemed as if he had something to say before he stepped outside. As I’m pondering his awkward facial expression, the door from the main hallway swings open, and Cole reappears, holding another paper bag.

  “Here’s your breakfast.” He holds out the bag.

  I shake my head, trying to be polite. “No, thank you.”

  “Eat it.” He unrolls the bag and holds out crackers.

  At least they haven’t solidified like the roll. “All right. Fine. But I could use some water first.”

  He crosses the room, hands me a bottle of clear water, and watches as I gulp it down. He places a hand on his hip, takes a step back, and starts rocking on both feet. I can’t hold eye contact with him for more than a second. His stare makes me uncomfortable, and the way in which he enters and leaves through the two doors always reminds me that I have no privacy.

  “Come this way,” he demands.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, feeling suddenly nervous.

  “Don’t question me,” he says. “When I tell you to do something, you do it.” He points his finger in my face and he’s close, too close. It’s the first time I take notice of the stubble on his chin.

  “Okay.”

  I follow him into his room, breathing in the fresh smell of oranges. It’s set up almost like a large studio with everything in one room except for the bathroom. To the left sits his bed, and to the right is the entrance to his small bathroom. His clothing is piled at the foot of his bed along with Zeus’s food dish and crate. His kitchen area sits in the far right corner and is small but clean with the doorway to the main hall next to it. Against the wall, near the kitchen, sits a wooden table with two identical chairs and a safe mounted above it, where I assume he keeps his weapons. A small laptop sits on his table. On the screen, I see a view of the main hallway and a view of my bedroom.