Guard and Scythe

Trail of Bread Crumbs

Tralalalalala

dedicated to @JuliaLupin for being so awesome and including me in her cool book! If you don't already know her, you should check her out!

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After being imprisoned in this ramshackled building for so long, I have lost my natural sense of passing time. I can only tell the hours have dragged forward into the later evening when the other children and myself are all brought down to the large white room where we are fed and given water.

To distract myself from the vivid memory images from my experiance in Briscoe's quarters this afternoon, I stare up at the cieling, tracing all the ridgid cracks, trying to memorize all the places where the rough rusty-stained white paint peels back into spirals, revealing dark spots of the wooden cieling.

Mickenna prods me, in an attempt to obtain my attention. I shrug her off, not tearing my eyes away from the cieling. Mickenna huffs in impatience but doesn't continue her attempts to turn my attention towards her again.

Little paint bubbles, a mixture of dirt and undoubtedly dry brown blood form crust layers over the white base, reminiscent of a dirtied canvass. With each new stain, my heart breaks as my imagination starts reeling out appalling fantasies about their possible origins.

I blink slowly, and pull myself away from those less than amicable visions. Even my thoughts were no longer safe. I find myself returning Mickenna's worried gaze. I've grown so accustomed to seeing that look on her face now. It's an expression that touches her eyes in a way that makes you realize how much older and experianced she looks. Far too much pain and carefulness is carried on her shoulders than any child should have to live under .

Mickenna turns her head away from me, depriving me of being able to see her beautiful blue eyes, as some gruff, older looking man sets a plate of crackers and a small pot of soup in front of our circle of children. We all look down at the unappetizing meal hungrily, knowing this is all we would get.

As soon as the man leaves, Mickenna whips out and takes the plate and bowl. We've made it customary to have one person divide the share of food amoung us evenly.

Mickenna takes the crackers, counting them as she passes them around. They are rather small and thin, and we only recieve four each, but we all take them gratefully. I hold my four crackers inside my hand, not willing to drop a single crumb. I nibble on the corner of one gingerly, letting the thin cardboard like crisp dissolve on my tongue. It takes a lot of grit not to devour the entire cracker in one large bite, but I know that I have to savor it, and make my four meesily crackers last as long as possible.

Mickenna sets the plate down, and moves on to distributing the soup. Around the circle she walk and spoons out a ladleful of soup for us all to drink. When I taste it, I immediatily notice the slimy thinness as it slivers down my throat. It's salty and resembles some type of broth, but tastes anything but appetizing. Mickenna notices me wince as I swallow and gives me a little half smile of support before drinking her own first ladle.

We all slowly eat our way through our food, but still end up finishing a lot quicker than most of the groups of children surrounding us. Some squabble over the last cracker or who gets to drink the dregs from the soupbowl, or that last inch of water left in the plastic containers that had been given to us while we were eating. Our guards shift around in a manner suggesting they are all quite agitated with all the commotion and racket. While they pry a few children away from each other, Mickenna pulls me away out of nowhere, and together we run to the edge of the room right by the door leading to the kitchen.