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Chapter 8 - The Revolutionary

"Look like you are prone to accidents, huh?" Bolwen's smile crooked to the side and small dimples appeared at the edge of his lips.

"What about you?" I asked, "What did you do to get here?"

He opened his arms, like a saint giving absolution "As you so eloquently said, I'm here as a byproduct of a mishap," The way he talked gave the impression of someone infinitely more mature, as he voiced his story with a volume that demanded attention.

He continued "I may or may not have place explosives in the Tower of Clouds in Sperlant, that may or may not have ruined a building that was the house of the government."

I could feel my eyelids touching my eyebrows "Who made you do that?"

He tilted his head and his eyes went narrow as slits "Dear Jack, there are fires that won't extinguish with water. Having being a brother of those whose screaming is their only language. Do you think someone had to make me do it? In this world there are things greater than oneself."

He stopped and looked at the book still in his hand "And those things take it all, even when there is nothing more to give, they will find a way to take even more."

He went back to his original spot and plummeted there. "In a sense we are the same, giving our lives for what we believe in. It really makes one feel alive. Doesn't it?"

". . ." My throat crackled with saliva. This kid. . .this man. Can he really see that deep within me?

"Oh, turned taciturn, have we? Don't worry, Jack. We have a long way ahead of us" He laid against a dirty brown blanket on the floor "A long, long way."

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The rest of the day passed uneventful, curiously enough, Everyone was moved from their original tents and shuffled in others. Everyone, except for me and Bolwen. I wonder why that would be?

Who knew that it would turn for the worse because of that.

Every slave knew each other by the end of the day, except for us. A lone island in an archipelago.

It was no wonder that by the end of the day, we'd be the underdogs.

When sunshine stopped filling out our heads and dreams started hanging in the air while a rhythmic snoring reverberated in our little tent.

Then it happened.

Shouts that resonated from the outside were becoming louder, clearer. Filled with threats.

The tent's curtains opened and from them, an overflow of boys filled the room, screaming gibberish in a sea of shouts.

They grabbed Bolwen and me. I was kicking powerlessly, like a bird with broken wings trying to take flight again. I punched someone in the face, don't know who it was but I was damn glad when is nose started trickling blood. I also heard the sound of a bone breaking, so the revolutionary wasn't all talk after all.

He shouted things like I was a coward and a son of a whore. What a funny guy.

When we got outside, they threw us on the hard and dusty ground. I glimpsed at the guards, they were looking at us as if we were animals, unrelated to them.

We were fenced in a circle of boys when one of them stepped forward.

"Oi, oi. We were just welcoming ya. Since ya didn't even come out of yer tents we took extra trouble to say hello and this is how we're repaid?" He turned around, opened his hands like an entertainer and proceeded "What do ya say, boys? We've been mistreated."

Shout thundered from within their lungs. The boy who I presumed to be the leader approached Bolwen, grabbed a hold of his hair and tugged his head upwards to his face. "Debts will be repaid."

He lunged a knee to Bolwen's face, throwing him backwards. His face was already bloodied and it was tainting his clothes.

The leader shouted "Come on, boys. We are debt collectors tonight."

A rain of fists and kicks fell upon us. Not giving us a chance to recover even when we vomited

whatever was still left in our stomachs.

The pain was high, yes; but a more intense feeling was starting to build on my guts.

Rage.

An infinite fuel called anger was set to burn on my guts and it was burning as if hell still existed. And it burned and it burned until a single thought remained.

I would take vengeance.

Against them.

Against the people that imprisoned me.

Against the slavers.

Everyone shall suffer.