"Huh?" A shocked gasp escaped Justin's mouth. He looked at his palms, eyes wide with surprise. Blazing flames tickled his skin, caressing them along with the rest of his body. "Arghhhhhhhhh!" The belated screech of pain that followed was something that we had grown accustomed to. However, still, we winched, clenching our trembling fists in fear.
Everyone saw Justin as Don's favourite, they thought Justin would forever be free from the dancing death. However, reality proved that they were wrong. He was squirming about, rolling around on the floor, reaching out for a god that didn't exist, screaming relentlessly of his pain.
"DIE!DIE!DIE!DIE!DIE!DIE!DIE!" Somehow, his vocal chords had not been scorched by the smoke and heat of the flames that were eating away at his body. His eyes glowed with rage as he cursed Don with his dying breath.
We watched in somewhat of an awe as our tormentor finally fell to the ground, not a single bit of unscorched skin left untouched. The human charcoal continued to burn until there was all but ash left. It crumbled, the resentful figure dissipating in the wind. Nonetheless, none of us found it within us to pity the young boy, nearing 13 years of age. He was a hateful boy, relying on his large stature and shameful position as Don's dog to suppress us all, stealing our meagre dinners, ruining our clothes and blankets, beating us black and blue. He took pleasure in the fact that we were below them. Thus, we resented him, perhaps, more than we hated Don.
A sense of schadenfreude filled my soul when I witnessed Justin step on the tiger's toes. Don was in a terrible mood and he failed to see that. Just sneezing in his presence was enough to grant him a terrible death. I may have sneered if not for the final glance he gave me at the very end. It shook my very soul. Glowing eyes that showed intense hate and grievances that required blood shed to quench...
The very next day, as if to replace Justin, Don brought in another child. She was by far the smallest one yet, beating my record by a year or two, a 6 or 7 year old child. The girl had a tear stained face, her arms were battered in bruises and light burns, as did the rest of her body. However, her untouched face showed us that she was not one of Don's, she was merchandise, preparing to receive training before being sold off.
Instantly, envy could be seen on the faces of a few of us. We were some of the few that Don kept. We were slaves, stress relief, disposable henchmen and more. Our lives were allowed to end at any moment but merchandise were different. Merchandise were allowed to be beaten but they couldn't die. They never had to fear the dancing death, only we did.
The girl was pushed into our dark and dilapidated room, in which other than children, there were only cardboard boxes and worn out bed sheets. She fell weakly on the floor, tears dripping from her big round eyes as her body trembled.
Right...that was my first time meeting Io. In a room that smelt of sweat and charred flesh.
The more compassionate approached her in condolence. They stroked her back with gentleness of a mother and wiped her tears. In soft voices, they taught her of what she needed to know; the reality of this place, the people she needed to avoid and what her future may entail. 'You're one of the lucky ones', they told her, voices straining to sound happy. 'You won't have to stay here for too long.'
The next shipment was in two months. In two months time, Io would be taken away, sold as merchandise. No one knew where they went. We were only kids, we didn't know what human trafficking entailed. So, we could only hope, hope that they were sold into a loving family that were looking to adopt and they would remember us and then we would be saved. However, many shipments went out and still, we were trapped into this accursed hellhole.
Over the next few days, Io was taken care of by the other kids. Perhaps it was her small stature, or sunshine smile that brightened up the room, but they loved her and protected her with all their strength.
When I first arrived, I received the same treatment. The care that the older kids showered upon me made this place a little more bearable. Laughter and smiles would occasionally fill the room in the dead of the night, when we were sure there was no one watching us. However, Don's unpredictable mood forced me to bear witness to that terrible dance; the screeches of my friends as they struggled to live, skin crackling and popping, arms desperately trying to put out the undying flames, only for them to fall and burn out in a blaze of flames.
I stopped interacting with the other captives and naturally, they stopped trying to bother me. This has always been my reality. Wallowing in self-pity all by my lonesome self in a dark room.
"Bert, come here." The devil's voice resounded from the door. Sprawled across his face was an evil grin, and a mischievous glint in his eyes.
I got to my feet despite knowing that nothing good would come out from following him.
No! Don't go! Just stay here and get beat up inside!...In the end, it's just a memory. No matter how much I yell or make a fuss, my younger self would not hear a thing.
I followed Don out of the room under the pitying but intrigued eyes of the others.
"Kill him." Don tossed me a knife. It was a rusty kitchen knife that had been stained and eroded by the blood on its blade.
I picked up the knife. It was light and easy to hold. I gripped it in my hands and turned to face my victim. His eyes shone with tears and from the taped mouthed, muffled pleas escaped. Through the burns on his face, I could recognise the man. He served us dinner yesterday and gave double the usual portions. How foolish of him. Did he think Don wouldn't notice? No matter how small, it was an act of defiance. He was doomed from the start.
I took that knife and stabbed it into his heart, putting my entire weight into it. Then I waited. Waited for the moans to stop, for the breathing to crease, and for the body to fall helpless.
"Brilliantly done." Though he spoke words of praise, Don sounded disappointed.
I remained silent as I pulled the knife out, blood from his heart spurting all over me.
"Go back after you clean yourself."
"...Yes, Don."
I stared at my bloodstained hands, eyes widening in shock.
I shouldn't have gone that day. If only I hadn't…