Ian sat beside the bed and watched Albert sleep. The sun had fallen well below the horizon and the moon was at the highest point in the sky. Yet, Albert laid still in bed, showing little to no signs of waking up. The doctor had assured the family that he was merely sleeping but Ian couldn't help but to feel anxious. He held Albert's unresponsive hand with his two hands and brought it to his forehead, closing his eyes tightly as if in prayer.
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I dragged my body back to the shared room almost mechanically. Despite having showered, I didn't feel refreshed at all. On the contrary, a dirty feeling crawled over my body, reminding me of what just occurred. When I reached my corner in the room, the furthest one from the door, I collapsed on the floor, like a puppet whose strings were cut, arms laying weakly by my side and legs spread out randomly.
I stared ahead, eyes not focussed on anything. However, in my mind, a full fledged war was taking place. Maybe that was why I hadn't noticed when someone had sat by my side. A cool hand was placed on my forehead. I slowly turned my head to the side, clearly lacking the survival instincts to even react defensively in response to my personal space being invaded so easily.
Io retracted her hand and felt her own forehead. I could see question marks floating around her head as she lifted her hand to feel my forehead yet again. This time, I pulled back yet was obstructed by the wall behind me. The small hand once again made its way to my forehead.
"What are you doing?" It was an unexpectedly cold tone of voice. However, I was already in a terrible mood and not ready to entertain this little child.
"It wasn't a fever." Io giggled, her face radiating warmth and comfort.
Momentarily, I felt myself relax. She was worried for me?
From then on, Io would occasionally sit beside me and carry out a one-sided conversation. Despite the other's warnings, she still clung to me and refused to leave. In dismay, the merchandise could only distance themselves from what they felt was the sun talking to a plastic rose.
"Bert. Come here." Don's voice rang out.
I glanced over at Io and stood up. Her worried gaze followed my back as I disappeared along with Don. It wasn't morning so I wasn't going to take care of the plants. There were only two options; 1, he was going to make me kill someone to satisfy his sick sense of humour again or 2, the most likely option, he was going to beat me up.
...It was two. Spouting out pathetic nonsense, Don did what he did best, which was abusing small children. Fists pound into my flesh and my skin was burnt over and over again and the process repeated almost systematically. Over time, only weak gasps escaped my mouth. My entire body screamed in pain but I couldn't vocalise it as it only served to excite him further. Yet, Don seemed to notice this and intentionally targeted areas I expressed the most pain in.
"You can go now."
"Yes Don, thank you, Don." I pulled myself up and staggered out through the door.
"Oh right, when you go back, call the new girl in."
I paused. "What do you need her for?"
"Hmm? Are you trying to defy me?"
"N-no." I was a coward. There wasn't even a change in my expression nor a falter in gait when I walked over to the young girl, blood still dripping from my wounds.
"A-are you okay?" She looked horrified, concern painted all over her face. What an asshole I was.
"Don wants you." I sounded so apathetic at the time that even I feel that I might've been heartless.
"You-! How could you just send her over like that?" The merchandise beside Io reprimanded me. I could feel everyone else's gazes fall on me, their accusatory stares and self-righteous thoughts.
"It's the last room down the hall. You can't miss it." Saying such, I left for my corner of the room and didn't turn back. I could hear the merchandise convincing Io not to go and having an argument amongst themselves but ultimately, it resulted in soft footsteps making their way out of the room and towards hell.
When she left, everyone scolded me, 'how could you let a baby go get beaten?', 'do you not have a heart?', 'you're no better than that demon.', such pointed words were thrown at me. Deep down, I thought to myself, 'how is it my fault when there isn't anything I could do to stop him? She was going to get beaten either way, so why should I risk my life to help her? And it's not like any of you are helping so what right to do you have to yell at me?'
But, be it the guilt in my heart or my adverseness to speaking to the rest of my fellow victims, I didn't say anything.
Io staggered back in. Her body was littered with wounds, new ones replacing the old ones. The numerous burns and cuts and bruises all over her body showed me that Don was having a lot more fun torturing her than he did me. The only silver lining however, was that Don wouldn't target her again in the next few weeks.
"A-are you alright?" The merchandise swarmed around Io and inspected the poor child. Her shin had been cut by a knife but the fire had casterised it, leaving a terrible burn in its stead. However, without proper healing, she was destined to walk with a limp hereafter.
Io walked towards me. I braced myself for the insults that would be thrown at me. However, she just sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.
"I'm sorry…" Pathetically, that was all I could muster.
The others brought Io away and consoled her while she cried. On the contrary, I could only stare silently at the floor and wellow in my own pain, be it that of the heart or the body.
Over the next few weeks, as if to assuage my guilt, I started to treat Io better. I gave her a bit of my bread, shared fruits with her and began to talk back when she attempted to engage in a conversation with me. Although I was apologising, I felt that I might've even been having fun?
"You, come with me." Don pointed straight at Io and commanded her to follow.
"I will go instead." I stood up. It was my chance to redeem myself.
"Hoh?" Don raised an eyebrow. "Sit back down before I burn you alive."
My knees trembled and arms shook but still, I remained standing. 'It's okay', I remember telling myself, 'Don needs me. He won't kill me. Not yet.'
Don opened up his fist, palm facing the ceiling. Floating above it was a fireball. He stared at me with intrigued yet infuriated eyes. "Really reminds me of that bastard Kin.' He muttered beneath his breath.
"Take me instead." I straightened my back and stood firmly in place.
"Very well then."
I left with Don and never came back that night. As I lay weakly in that room, I heard a sinister voice in my head echoing, "Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate."
...As expected, it wasn't my imagination.