"Wake up boy." A man who wore guard attire said. He looked down at a boy who was held up in a cell, unconscious. He looked no older than five. There was a collar situated on his neck, his hands and legs were tied up with brown rope, brown rags that barely covered his light brown body and had dirt in his glossy black hair.
"Hey! I said wake up!" The guard started banging his sword on the cell bars making a loud ringing sound.
Instantly the boy opened his eyes and his body perked up. Confused he looked around and tried to move his arms, but couldn't as they were tied. He looked up at the guard with a puzzled and scared face.
"Finally up huh? Good, now it's time to get to work, slave. Your task is to cle-" Before the guard could finish his words, the boy started crying very loudly.
"Mommy!!" he cried. "Waa!! Mommy!!! Daddy!!!" As he cried for his parents, the guard started getting annoyed. He looked back at the boy and banged his sword on the bars again.
"HEY!! KNOCK IT OFF!! YOU'RE HURTING MY EARS!" He yelled at him but the cries only got louder. Fed up, he opened the cell door and grabbed the boy by his hair.
"Ahh, it hurts!" the boy winced
"Shut it, slave. Keep your crying to yourself, I'm not trying to hear that shit. If you keep crying, I'll cut off your tongue so shut your damn mouth!"
As the cries stopped, sniffles followed.
"Good, now I'll be telling you your duties from now until further notice. Follow me.
Dropping the boy and undoing his bindings, the guard, followed by the boy, walked towards a door at the end of the corridor. As they exited the dungeon, the boy covered his eyes as rays of sunlight hit him. The two of them walked along a path that led to different areas.
Further along the path to the left of them, a large farm encased the area. Tall crops were being chopped down by many people who had similar attire to the boy, also with collars on their necks. To the right stood a tool shed for the slave workers. The pair continued to walk the path until they reached a large wooden building. Upon entering, it was revealed to be a barn that housed many animals.
"Your job is simple. You will clean this barn every day. The entire barn is to be spotless every day after work hours. Everything you need is in the corner over there." He pointed to the far right corner of the barn. "Since you are young, there will be another person to help you with these tasks. You will have three meals a day, nothing more but sometimes less depending on how you do. When you are relieved of your duties for the day, make your way to the cleaners to wash yourself, then to the slave quarters. Every day will be like this until you are told otherwise. Now get to work." The guard then pushed the boy into the barn
The boy, still not fully understanding what was going on, reluctantly went to the corner where the tools for his duties were.
"Oho, so you're my helper huh little one?" An old man said as he walked into the barn. He had short grey hair, his back was slightly hunched and he was visibly skinny. The man had many wrinkles and looked as if he was In his mid-seventies.
"Ah, y-yes sir." the boy said nervously.
"Haha, no need to be so polite. Call me Gramps. Tell me, what's your name little one?"
"J-Joren si-gramps. My mommy gave it to me." Joren looked down at the barn floor and tears started flowing down his cheeks. The thought of his mother saddened him deeply
"Now now, don't cry. I understand that you're confused and scared, but you need to be strong to make it back to your parents okay? Once they see you again, they will see how big and strong you've gotten and be very proud."
Gramps walked over to Joren and patted his head, comforting him. Of course, everything he said was a lie. Both of them were slaves, and slaves only became free under three conditions. Their masters take them as servants, the slaves find a way to escape, or, they die. Most often it's the latter.
"Now, let's get to work, we don't want to be punished for doing a bad job do we?"
"N-no." Joren sniffed wiping the tears from his eyes.
"Good. Now since you're young, you can't handle hard laborious tasks, so your job will be to sweep, mop, and organize everything in the barn. I'll handle the hard stuff okay?"
"Y-yes sir!"
"Nice, now let's work."
A month passed by since Joren became a slave. He completed his tasks with diligence. At first, he didn't know what he was doing, and that caused them to work later than usual and get less food. But after a week, he got into the rhythm and he was able to complete his tasks on time.
Morning came and all the slaves were woken up. Joren ate breakfast and made his way to the barn. As he entered, he went to the area where his tools were but found that they had been moved.
He looked around, noticing that it had been on the second floor. 'Gramps worked up there so he probably forgot to bring them down'. he assumed.
Climbing up the ladder, he went to the large bucket that held all the tools for cleaning the barn. He didn't notice that the bucket was sitting on a small wooden plank, so when he was grabbing his tools, the bucket shifted, sliding the plank to the edge of the second floor, wobbling back and forth.
Joren climbed down and went to start his duties, but before he could begin, the wooden plank fell from the second floor, hitting his head, and knocking him out cold. Gramps, who entered as soon as that happened, saw the entire thing. He rushed to Joren to see if he was okay, but when he wasn't waking up, he took him to the infirmary for slaves.
...
"Ugh, what happened? Where am I?" Joren looked around and found himself in an unfamiliar area. His head hurt and his memories were hazy. He tried collecting his thoughts to piece things together.
"I remember! That son of a bitch Trey was fucking Alice! That fucking bastard! I'll-" Before he could finish his sentence, he remembered that after he confronted Trey and started beating him up, Alice struck him in the head, and then Trey stabbed him in the chest.
"H-Holy fuck. I'm alive." Panic was in his voice. He was at death's door but miraculously, he managed to survive. "He probably barely missed my heart and took me to the hospital to get treated. At least that bastard has the decency to not let me die!" He reached for his chest, expecting to have bandages and feel pain. But to his surprise, there was neither.
"Huh?" Looking down, he noticed that his chest was perfectly fine. No pain when there should be. No stitches. No tubes. No bandages. No...nothing. Then he noticed his small hands. His heart skipped a beat. "What the?" He then noticed his high-pitched voice. He looked at his attire and saw that he was wearing rags and had a collar on his neck.
"Wh-What the hell is happening?" Lost, he got up from his bed. He noticed his small legs and feet. His heart was beating faster. Stumbling a bit, he made his way over to a bucket of water that was adjacent to his bed. Looking down, he saw his reflection, and what looked back at him was a small, cute child with black hair and crimson eyes.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!!!!"