Page 2 of Corrupted Torment

I don’t remember.

The thought is frightening and made worse by my body’s exhaustion. I’m so tired. It takes several long minutes to have enough strength to crawl my way to the shade of the treeline. Here I curl up to rest while my reddened skin throbs, itchy and sore with heat. My throat is parched, desperate for even just a taste of water.

“Told you she couldn’t hack it,” a woman’s voice gruff with annoyance speaks above me. “She’ll be a drain. Just leave her there.” I don’t move as she speaks. My head is unbearably heavy.

Something jabs sharply into my side. I’m pushed roughly by a foot and turned onto my back. It hurts, but I squint my eyes open. I look up at two figures hovering above me, both haloed by light. Letting out a disgruntled noise, I lift my heavy head and try to peer closer, but can only make out their outlines. The bright sunlight obscuring my vision.

“Don’t be like that, Aggs. If it were up to you, no one would be let in,” a softer voice replies. “She’s just a kid.”

I hadn’t heard either of them approach. Had I passed out, or had they been watching me all along? I’m not sure I want to know. Either way, the first woman–Aggs–seems to be happy enough to leave me here.

“Let’s get the girl up. A bit of food an’ water an’ she’ll be fine. Can’t tell me you weren’t the same your first day,” the nicer of the pair continues. The other woman scoffs in response.

My body raises upwards as the two women drape my arms around their shoulders. On either side of me, they each grab hold of my waist and move me to a standing position. I’m an unbalanced mess, the two of them holding most of my weight, but I try my best to remain as steady as I can.

“’Least she’s fucking light. Better not be like the last one.”

“She’s young. I don’t think it’ll be a problem. Come on, kid, we’ve got you now.”

I struggle to keep moving—trying to stay upright with the women’s help—while feeling the scorching burn of the sand beneath my sinking feet. Soon, it turns to much cooler, dry earth and leaves a welcome relief on the bottoms of my sore feet. The occasional rock stabs its way into my sole, but I’m almost too numb to notice.

Keeping one foot in front of the other is all I can concentrate on. My eyes are unfocused as we travel past the sand and through the trees, away from the lapping water of the beach. As I start to trip and stumble, the women’s arms keep me in their firm grip. They continue to speak, their words drifting off into a mumbled background noise.

Blackness curls at the edges of my vision as my legs drag limply behind me, scuffing the tops of my feet over rough debris. These two strangers carry me to an unknown fate. Finally, I succumb to the darkness, letting it cocoon me softly in its embrace.

* * *

When I wake, an older girl is peering down at me. I startle and push myself upright on my elbows, scrabbling back away from her on my bum. My movements are awkward with my legs trapped in a tangled blanket.

Her lips curve into an amused smirk as she flicks short brown hair from her eyes. Looking at her more intently, I realise she can’t be more than a few years older than me.

She picks something up from beside her and shakes it. Liquid sloshes inside and my dry lips part. Thirst overrides every other emotion, my fear dissolving. There is just a desperate need and I’m in complete thrall of what she holds.

“Here, drink some water, kid,” she says, shuffling towards me and thrusting the canteen into my chest with force. I don’t even care. I grasp the thing with frantic hands, twisting the cap before gulping at the cool water greedily. It spills over my cracked lips and it’s heavenly, better than anything I’ve ever tasted.

Slowly, it quells the dehydration that had taken over my body, but a cry spills from me as she snatches the canteen back. I need that; I’m not finished. I’m still so thirsty. Could I have been out in the sun without water for much longer than I’d realised? No wonder I had passed out.

“Don’t waste it, you stupid cow. You should’ve sipped the damn water anyway. Over there, follow that path. Get your own supplies,” she snarls, pointing vaguely behind her. She goes to stand, but I somehow grip onto her wrist before she does.

“Where are we? What is this place?” I try to plead with her. She pushes my hand away, shaking her head before rising to her feet, staring cooly down at me with piercing green eyes and I deflate. Sure that she is not going to answer, my body sags and I look away from her penetrating stare. Unable to focus on her any longer.

“I don’t know what this is, or where we are. I just do as I’m told, and if you’re smart, you’ll do the same. Now get up, kid. You need three dresses, a sleeping bag, a water canteen, and enough rations for yourself for a week. Those need to be brought to the main fire pit. We divvy the food up there. You get them from the warehouse down that trail. Got it?”

I nod, it’s more than I expected. Tiredness shoots through my aching limbs as I struggle to stand, making it to my hands and knees. She nods back, offering me no help before walking away.

“Oh, and don’t take more than you’re rationed; you’ll regret that.” Her final warning shout is called over her shoulder, leaving me alone in this strange place. She doesn’t even turn her head as I begin to softly cry, large wet tears rolling down my cheeks.

It takes a long, painful time for me to get up, and it terrifies me at how weak I am, how vulnerable. Plenty of others are walking around, but not one person comes to help me. I seem to be in some kind of shanty town, well, a village. Women peek out of run-down-looking shacks but look away when I try to catch their eye. I’m just a kid, but it doesn’t appear to make a difference. They want nothing to do with me.

I trek past the homes, quickly realising that no one wants to help me. As more people–all young girls and women–choose to ignore my presence, I feel the hiccupping sob erupt from within me. I’m so scared and I don’t know where I am. I can’t contain it as my crying becomes a noisy mess of snivelling tears.

Panic filters through my body and I shake with each step I take. The pressure of so many pairs of eyes upon me is akin to daggers stabbing me in the back. A betrayal yet to be made, or one they make with each fumbling step I take.

I stumble, somehow catching myself before I fall. The snickers that follow let me know they saw. They are nothing but bullies who find my pain amusing. Do the people here just prey on the weak? Their eyes observe me, assess me, and looking back, I can’t see a drop of kindness in sight. What made them this way?

I hate this.

Growing up in the foster system, my life had never been some fairy tale. At least the people there were mostly nice, much nicer than they are here, wherever here is. Sure, there’d been one or two people I hadn’t liked, but this is on a whole other level.

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