I Am Mustafin

| 5 | - Consequence

My tongue feels like sandpaper and my muscles ache with the burning of my dry skin.

I've lost track of time and I'm unsure of how long it's been since I last had a drop of water. The man who came to question me and beat me really wasn't joking when he told me to drink out of the toilet—there is no sink.

I refused to do it.

I have not the slightest clue of how many people have been in here nor when was the last time that toilet had been cleaned. The silver color on its rim still has its spark, but looks can be deceiving.

I've been monitoring my wounds, but they don't seem to be getting better, likely as a result from malnourishment and dehydration. I'm not sure how much longer it'll be until I'm taken to court and I'm also unsure of how much longer I can go without water.

One thing I'm sure of: I do not want to die here.

I lean my back against the white wall behind me, across from the large glass one, as I stare at my bare toes. I had removed the boots from them, setting them beside me along with the socks that have blood stains from the rotweiler's bite. My steady breathing is almost inaudible and my muscles tense when I hear the sound of the air-conditioner going off.

These luxuries, I am only familiar with them because I had read about them in the library of books at Selina's place. She is the librarian and one of the teachers for the children living within the first mile of the tunnels.

I miss her, I miss my friends, and I miss my home.

I don't want to die...

My eyes flicker away from my feet, landing on the toilet positioned beside the white mattress thrown onto the floor that was meant for me to sleep on.

I know what I have to do, and I stand up, straightening on my feet as I use the wall for support.

A sigh passes my lips, my steps coming slow and uncoordinated in my dizziness. When I come within arms reach of the toilet, it is as if my body has a mind of its own, my legs giving out beneath me and crashing onto the cold floor.

My hands cling onto the rim of the seat, holding me steady. I watch the still water reflect the lights on the ceiling, my gaze lifting to eye myself on the mirror wall in front of me. There are bags beneath my irritated eyes and dry skin peeling from my swollen lips.

I don't recognize the girl staring back at me.

She is not me.

I avert my gaze back to the water, looking at my distorted reflection. The bridge of my nose stings and somehow, hot tears manage to form at the brim of my eyes. I move one of my shaky hands from the rim, dipping it into the cool water.

I cup a puddle into my hand, moving it to my lips and sipping it into my mouth. A moan emits from the back of my throat, my eyes slipping shut as the liquid slides down my throat. I do this a few more times, drinking as much as I can until the thought of what I am doing really sinks in and I'm disgusted with myself.

"You truly are pitiful."

My eyes snap up from the toilet, my hands drawing away from it as I my gaze lands on the all-too familiar man.

He stands in the same attire with the same smug look on his face except, this time, his eyes hold revulsion as he looks at me. He holds his hands behind his back, just as when I had first spoken to him, and there are a pair of men standing on either side of him, sharing the same expression and demeanor.

From the pale color of their skin to the blond hair on their heads and blue eyes, I know that these men all belong to the blood Ring Talos, and if my circumstances didn't make it obvious, the black uniform easily identifies them as military men.