I just hope my mother is doing well.
"Hey you!" Suddenly, a strong, male voice echoes from another corridor behind us. "No one is supposed to be down here without permission!"
The man approaching us is an ugly guy in his late forties, but still quite muscular. His hair is brown, as are his eyes. The uniform he wears is black with gray stripes on the shoulders. He seems more interested in me than Mak. He scrutinizes me with his gaze. A disgusting grin spreads across his lips, making me shudder.
Instinctively, I press my body closer to Mak, seeking protection.
"Tell me this is a joke and you haven't taken over as chief overseer down here," Mak says. The warrior's gaze is full of disgust towards this guy.
"They needed a capable man, and since you took away my toy, I had to find another occupation," he says, a laugh escaping his throat at his words. "How are my two sweethearts, by the way?"
"Doing very well, now that they are free!" Mak growls at him.
"What are you doing here anyway?" the man asks. "Are you here to bring me a replacement for my lost toy?" He licks his lips, his gaze fixed on me.
Every fiber of my being recoils at the sight of this guy.
Mak steps in front of me. "Definitely not that!" he shouts. His gaze towards the man is filled with hatred and contempt. "I'm here on Gasard's orders! If you don't believe me, ask around!"
"It's probably true!" the hefty man says. "So, who are you looking for?"
"A woman was brought here a few days ago," Mak answers. "I'm here for her."
The guy nods, an amused grin on his lips, fueling an immense fear within me. His following remark confirms that my fear is not unfounded.
"She's still quite well-built for her age," he remarks. "Come with me!" With that, he starts walking, into the corridor he came from.
"It's probably even worse than I expected," Mak mutters, more to himself than to me. He follows the man.
How much I wish he's wrong, but Mak's comment extinguishes any remaining hope.
With lowered eyes, I follow them both.
"I've offered before to handle everything for you," Mak calls out, looking directly at me. "The offer still stands."
I shake my head. She wouldn't believe anything from him, and yet I want to see her so badly. Even though I'm afraid of what they might have done to her.
The overseer stops at one of the doors. He doesn't open it, but slides a bolt aside, revealing a glimpse inside the cell. A disgustingly amused grin spreads across his face as he takes a peek inside.
I suspect that what I'll see when I look into the cell will exceed my worst fears. I glance at Mak, seeking help.
He looks at me with concern, but also with a hint of curiosity, wondering if I might change my mind.
But my decision is firm.
I take a deep breath, then I step towards the door.
My heart is pounding like crazy, my chest tightens as I approach that slit. Just before I look inside, I hesitate, but then I do it.
The sight that meets me makes me step back in shock, bumping into a muscular man who does the same. Hot tears fill my eyes as Mak whirls around, grabbing the overseer and throwing him violently against the opposite door.
"The order was to watch over her!" Mak shouts angrily at the overseer. "Not to nearly beat her to death!"
Tears stream down my cheeks as I see my mother. Her wrists are in iron shackles, chained to the ceiling. Her body looks weak. It seems like she's only holding on to that chain. Her head rests on her chest. Her long hair is greasy and covers her face.
Is she awake? I wonder. Or is she unconscious?
Her dress... She's been wearing it since the last night I saw her. It looked so beautiful then, now only shreds of it hang on her body, which is marked with purple bruises.
Hot tears well up in my eyes as I look at her battered body. The fact that there's no blood visible hardly comforts me at this moment.
"What's so bad about having some fun with her?" the overseer demands to know. "She's just a worthless slave!"
It feels like someone is stabbing a dagger into my heart, the amused tone in his voice hurts so much. I sink down on my knees and then onto the ground, feeling powerless.
"I'm just surprised by the mark," the overseer remarks. "I thought since that idiot took over, it was forbidden to brand slaves." His words pass me by without me understanding their meaning. "But it's better this way! At least you can distinguish the trash from the regular prisoners!"
Mak's fist lands on his face immediately.
"It's because of scumbags like you that it was forbidden to brand slaves!" Mak growls. His gaze shifts to me with concern. He's about to say something, but is interrupted by the overseer.
"All because of some stupid slave!" he says. This time, Mak's fist lands in his stomach. The overseer groans and goes down on his knees in front of Mak.
"Damn bastard!" curses this despicable man from below. "You'll regret this!"
"I'm certainly not the one who's going to regret anything here!" Mak shouts. Slowly, he comes to me and crouches beside me. His hand wipes away some of my tears. His kindness is unusual but also comforting, easing the pain a little. "Do you want to talk to her?" he asks me.
I nod and stand up.
Mak follows suit. When he's standing again, he orders the overseer to unlock the cell.
The guy has somewhat recovered from the blow and immediately obeys the order. His gaze is filled with anger towards Mak as he opens the door.
I wipe the tears from my face, take a deep breath, and then step into the cell.
It's just a tiny room, more like a hole than a cell, offering the prisoners at least a place to sleep when everything else is lacking.
My mother tries to lift her head, to see who has entered, but she can't manage it. She's too weak.
"Mom," I call out to her. My voice trembles. It's evident how much her sight affects me.
"Janine?" she says. Her voice sounds so damn weak. So unfamiliar. Usually, she's always cheerful and laughs a lot. I can hardly believe that all of this is real. But unfortunately, it's not a nightmare.
An instinctive nod comes from me. Only afterwards do I realize that she can't see it, as her gaze is fixed on the ground.
"Yes," I manage to say after a while. I can't move, I just stand there rooted to the spot, staring at her.
"Are you okay?" she asks. There's concern in her voice. Anger is added to the next sentence. "Did he do something to you?"
"No!" I shake my head. "I'm okay!"
Again, she tries to lift her head, but again, she fails.
Tears wet my cheeks. It's just impossible! I can't stop them and start crying. It hurts so much to see her like this.
"What have they done to you?" I ask through tears. Finally, I manage to break free from my paralysis and run to her. I throw my arms around her and press her weak body against mine.
"I'm sorry, my darling, we should have protected you better." Tears wet my hair, her voice is barely a whisper, and she winces in pain under my embrace. It's like tearing me apart inside, seeing her like this, hearing her voice so weak. "If your father were still alive then..." She pauses briefly. The part of her face I can see is tear-streaked and contorted in pain. "...this wouldn't have happened for sure."
For the next few minutes, I try to calm her down, repeatedly assure her that I'm okay and she doesn't need to worry about me. Yet she's just as worried about me as I am about her.