9. Nine

Joey

Pieces of stale tortilla are being placed in a metal bowl in front of me. "Eat or I will shove it down your throat." The man kicks the bowl closer.

I lift the dish, sniffing the food. It smells like it"s been sitting out for days and is no longer soft. It crunches between my teeth as I bite down on it, trying to keep the emotion running through me from pouring out of my eyes. I didn"t need to go to the dark pit again. It's basically a dark hole in the ground they threw you in when you misbehaved. I lost myself a little each time I went in there. I'd managed to already get thrown in there three times in a matter of only two days. Only my memories of Isaiah have kept me going, strengthening my mind.

I take another bite of the molded food. Not sure if being sick to my stomach is worse than enduring aches from starvation. I glance over at Jackson beside me, observing him as he sits there quietly, staring at his bowl.

"You should eat. You don't want to wither away in a place like this. Want to know what helps me?"

He nods, not taking his eyes off the food.

"It helps to imagine it's something else."

"How?"

"What's your favorite food?"

Jackson shakes his head, pushing away the bowl. "You know what, it's okay. I'm not even all that hungry anyway."

I sigh, resting my hand on his bony cold shoulder. "If you think refusing to eat will work in your favor, you'd be wrong. You"re only hurting yourself, not them. This is them trying to win. Don't let them. You need your strength in a place like this. You won't survive without it. It"s one of the very few things we have left. Don"t let them take that from you too."

He nods, licking his lips. "What if eating doesn't make me stronger?"

"What if it does?" I pick up the food and hold it out to him, but he doesn't move. I shove the bowl into his shoulder. "Look, these men are bound to turn their back and let their guard down eventually and when that time comes, we need to be ready to run. Starving yourself only weakens you, slowing you down, and that will only make you more of a prisoner."

Jackson stares at the food in my hand, inhaling and exhaling slowly. "My favorite is blueberry pancakes."

I smile, setting the bowl in his lap. He reaches his hand out in front of him with his eyes closed, feeling for the bowl of stale food. His long bony fingers slowly wrap around a piece of tortilla. This time when he brings it to his lips, he doesn"t cringe at the taste and swallows it down a lot easier, quickly reaching for another piece. Knowing he"s no longer starving himself helps me eat better.

The bad men are already coming down the stairs by the time we empty our bowls. "Auction day is quickly approaching. It"s time to decide who goes and who stays. Everyone up against the wall with your hands down in front of you," the man with the scar says.

We all stand up at our own pace, some needing to hold onto the wall in order to hold themselves up. The man with the scar slowly makes his way through each one of us, examining every part of our nearly exposed bodies. His expression is unreadable as he slowly makes his way to the end with some still not fully standing up yet. It doesn"t matter who stays and who goes, we"re all losers in this game.

Trenton"s whole body shakes when he"s finally on his feet and tears slowly make their way down his cheeks as the man shines his flashlight on him. "This one will go." He pulls him off the wall, shoving him into the man with the scar. The man wraps his arms around his shivering body. "Relax, boy. No need to make this harder than it needs to be."

The flashlight lands on me next, and the man shakes his head moving to Jackson. "This one goes too."

My eyes widen and I shake my head, unable to stop the words from coming out of my mouth. "Where are you taking them? Why can"t they stay here until it"s time for the auction?"

The man with the scar glares at me. "I don"t think that"s any of your concern, princess. How about you keep quiet and worry about yourself?"

He grabs Jackson by the arm and the boy squirms and screams. "No, please. I don"t want to go." He reaches for my hand with flushed cheeks and wet eyes. "I won"t go." He shoves the man away, making a run for the stairs. Another man wearing a red bandana stops him on the way, grabbing him by the hair. "Where the hell do you think you"re going?" The man throws him on the ground causing him to crash hard against the cemented floor. He crouches over the ground, hugging his body as soft whines slip from his lips. "Please."

"Toss him in the pit, that"ll show him to step out of line again. He can attend the auction at the end of the week instead."

"No," I scream, throwing myself over Jackson. "Hasn"t he endured enough for the day? Throw me in there instead. Please."

The man with the scar smiles. "Fine, throw them both in there."

I swallow hard, hating how I'd acted without thinking. It wasn"t smart on my part and I could have gotten us both killed or worse. I need to learn to control my emotions, but being here in this place has them scattered. At least we"ll be in there together. It"s better than him being stuck down there alone.

They choose two more boys out of the twelve and I know soon there will be more joining us to replace the ones they lost. The very thought has my stomach in knots. The way they talk about incoming inventory is the same way a grocery store talks about receiving more produce.

Trenton shakes so badly he falls to the ground, puking on the man with the scar's shoes. "This one stays after all. I have a better place for him. He's too weak for the auctions. There will be plenty of men at the mansion who will love to toughen him up. Si, he will do much better there."

My stomach roils as they shove us up the stairs, taking us to the backyard. I squint my eyes, unable to adjust to the sunlight after being in the dark for the last two days. At least I think that"s how long it"s been. The last two times there was a hood over my head keeping me from seeing where they were taking me. I"m not sure why today is different. "Maybe a little bit of nature and sightseeing will help you boys calm down a bit. Take it all in while you can." The warmth on my face doesn"t last long and neither does the sweet smell of lilacs that surround the house when they toss us down the hole.

They shove us forward, not caring if we hurt ourselves on the way down. Their loud cackling is a reminder of who has the upper hand and all the power in this situation. I hope they enjoy it while it lasts. I hit the ground easier than Jackson does. He screams, folding into himself when he lands hard on his side, hitting his hip on a rock. I examine him as fast as I can before they shove the large wooden board over the hole, robbing us of every bit of light.

He has a small gash in his skin, but nothing seems to be broken. He will have a nice bruise tomorrow. Something which may reduce the pricing at auction with the possible chance of him ending up with someone worse. Someone who is a fan of battered and broken boys.

I grit my teeth, pulling a squealing Jackson against me, rocking us back and forth. I shouldn"t promise him anything, especially when I had no way to guarantee the words playing in my head. Offering him any comfort I can is my main focus right now. I need something to help ease his mind. "It"s going to all be okay. We are going to get out of here. You"ll see, and one day this will be nothing more than a distant memory."

I let my own words fool me, putting me at ease right along with him and my body relaxes more against the still boy in my arms.

My eyes flash open to loud screaming. Jackson is still in my arms, releasing soft snores. "Jackson," I whisper while slightly shaking him. "Do you hear that?"

The scream comes again and it gets louder. Almost as if the source is standing right above us. The wooden board shakes and Jackson jolts in my arms. "What"s happening? Have they come for me already?"

"No," someone shouts from above us. "Please, don't hurt him. Archie!"

"Shut up and get back in line. If you cared enough, you would have kept your friend from getting out of line in the first place. You will join him soon if you don't calm down and behave yourself. Perhaps I'll let you join your friends in the hole after the show." The man's voice is more familiar the more he talks. Each word is smooth and clear, laced with dominance. He wants to make it known who the superior one here is—Ivan.

"What show?" Jackson asks with his voice shaking. "What are they going to do to Archie?"

"I don't know, but whatever it is, you probably shouldn't listen. Cover your ears and hum a random song as loud as you can."

He doesn't argue against me and moves his hands to his ears while releasing soft whimpers. He hums "Row, Row Your Boat" and I sing along with him as the shouting above continues. Hot tears roll down my cheeks and I sing louder after I hear the man shout, "Release the dogs. They will find him. It's almost feeding time anyway."

I press my hands over Jackson"s hands and sing louder. Someone kicks at the board above us. "Shut up down there." I don't stop singing, making sure to be louder than Jackson"s hums and louder than the screaming above.

"Merrily, merrily, merrily life is but a dream."