"Insolent slave! Mrs. Alma told me she paid you 10 coins for yesterday's work. Why'd you only give me 5 coins? Where'd you hide the rest of the money? Heh! You dare to steal from me, you lowly slave!"
The old man wearing tattered clothes kept on beating the skinny little boy lying on the ground with the cane in his hand.
The child tried to cover his head from the blows, but as a result, both his arms were bruised and swollen. His face winced in pain but no sound came from his lips.
"Hey, hey, Dotan, please stop beating that child, you'll break his bones," said some bystanders in the slum area, trying to stop Dotan from torturing his slave.
"This ain't your business! If I don't teach this lowlife a lesson, then he'll keep stealing money from me. I spent too much money on feeding and clothing him when I bought him five years ago! I've the right to do anything to him however I wish," said Dotan as he pointed the cane to his neighbors.
He then continued striking the child several more times before unleashing a furious kick, throwing the kid several meters. Dotan only stopped when the child wasn't moving at all. Inwardly, he was also worried he'd break this boy's bone. After all, if this little slave wasn't able to work, then Dotan would also lose his source of income.
After throwing away his broken cane, Dotan walked back into his hut and slammed the door. Some female neighbors, who felt sorry for the boy, approached him and checked if he was still breathing. Fortunately, he was, but they could only shake their heads and turn toward the hut with disgusted faces.
Although they were very sorry for this child, unfortunately, they couldn't do anything to help him. Dotan had proof of ownership of this boy, so he had the right to do whatever he wanted to him. If they took him away or at least tried to help him escape, then Dotan could send the city guards after them for imprisonment.
The people in the slums didn't know for sure who Dotan was since he'd only moved to their slums several weeks ago from another city. But he'd always bragged about how he used to be a wealthy man surrounded by many slaves who'd do his every whim. So, they couldn't help but wonder what had happened to him that he became so poor and moved from one place to another with the only remaining slave he had.
In the first week after Dotan had arrived in a city, he would attempt to rent out his slave to do work at rich people's homes and received payment for the boy's services. Most people who had employed the child only did it out of pity, for they had heard how the child wouldn't be fed if he went back to Dotan without money. They even heard how the boy had collapsed in the past while working because he didn't eat for five days, only drinking well water, because he couldn't get work.
For an eight-year-old child, he was actually quite diligent and smart. Usually, the ladies that had employed him liked the boy and would treat him well. Some even tried to buy him from Dotan, but Dotan never wanted to sell his only source of income.
The truth was, Dotan and his slave never stayed long in one city because he'd make his slave steal valuable items from the homes of the rich people where the child worked. They always moved to the next town before the owner realized their possessions had been stolen.
The boy never talked. His master didn't need his voice anyway. As long as the little slave did his job, there wasn't a need for him to make any sound, was there? Since he was purchased at three years old, he was always called Number 5. Dotan didn't bother to give him a new name.
Today, when Dotan claimed he was teaching Number 5 a lesson, he was actually lying. The boy wasn't beaten for stealing 5 coins like Dotan had said. In actuality, Number 5 had failed to steal any valuables from Mrs. Alma's house and only returned home with his wage.
Dotan was really strapped for cash because he had wanted to drink wine. The 10 coins he had received from Number 5 was only enough to buy a day's worth of food for them and a bottle of wine. He needed more as he was craving to get drunk. This had enraged Dotan, so he had beat up Number 5 to vent his frustration. When the neighbors had become nosy, Dotan had reasoned that his slave stole money from him.
"Boy... are you okay?" asked a white-haired woman with a concerned face.
She touched Number 5's bony back gently. Her tears welled up as she looked at the emaciated boy. She knew Number 5 was eight years old, but from his small and frail body, he looked no older than five years old.
Number 5 opened his eyes with difficulty. He was wincing in pain, but as usual, no sound came out from his lips. The neighbors heard that he was a mute. If this child could speak, the beatings and various abuse he always received from Dotan would sound even more horrifying to the ears because the boy would scream and wail.
The boy's face was thin, tanned, and dry. His eyes were jet black, almost without any glimpse of life. His disheveled brown hair also had foul stench because Dotan had placed his head inside the piss cauldron they had at home before pouring it to him.
"Boy... why don't you run away from your evil master?" the woman whispered into his ear. "Soon, he'll get drunk and pass out. Why don't you try to run away once he's passed out? If you keep running to the west, you'll find a forest. You can hide there."
Actually, the forest wasn't a safe place for a small child, but in the mind of that woman, anywhere would be far safer than being with a cruel master like Dotan.
The boy closed his eyes again. His mind wandered to the several occasions when he had tried to escape from Dotan. His attempts had always failed and only resulted in a far more cruel punishment. He didn't know whether this time he would succeed.
With difficulty, Number 5 rose and examined his injuries. His wounds this time weren't as bad as usual. He had learned to lie down like a dead man with the hope of the kicks and blows would end immediately every time Dotan struck him. This time, Dotan was apparently really worried he'd break Number 5's bones, so Dotan stopped before he could cause serious injuries.
One time, Dotan had beaten him to a pulp, the man didn't care whether Number 5 would die or not. At the time, Dotan still had many other slaves who could make him money. But now, Number 5 was his only possession, so he became more careful in treating him.
Number 5 bowed deeply to the neighbors who were trying to help him before stumbling into the well to wash his wounds.
The people who had gathered around only looked at him with pity.
"What did you whisper to him?" another woman asked the person who helped Number 5.
"Nothing. I was just asking how he was doing."
"Oh, I see."
Seeing Number 5 back to his feet, the neighbors finally went back to their homes.