WiRED

iNTRO

NOW PLAYING: Omri - Demons

[Warning: Violence]

Screams echoed through the hall.

The inmates were restless in their cells. Some grumbled and cursed under their breaths. Others threw pillows over their ears. They tried to ignore the spine-chilling screams that echoed through their cells. For a while, it seemed interminable. Then suddenly it stopped. 

The door to the corridor opened. The inmates peered from the cells to see. A boy was the first to appear. He was wearing tan rugged clothes like most the inmates, except his were mostly ripped and stained with blood, old and fresh. Within the holes of his clothes, large gashes and burns came into view. The ragged boy was pushed further into the hall. His face became more visible in the harsher light. The sight of it made prisoners coil and sink back into their cells. They grimaced at scars that exposed the flesh beneath his plated skin. He looked almost unrecognizable. His eye was black and yellow and swelled shut. Blood caked his mouth and chin. His bloody nose appeared crooked.

Three other men followed behind him. Unlike the boy, their faces were clean. Not a single blemish or spot of blood ruined their perfect skin. They wore black, official-looking uniforms and walked with an air of unquestionable authority. The two men on the side took hold of the boy's arms and dragged his body along the hall. The boy groaned and writhed in their grip. 

"Keep moving," one the officers threatened, giving his arm an unpleasant tug. 

The boy grumbled some more and tried to trudge along on his burnt feet.

No one dared to spit or curse at the officers, despite their desires to do so. Most kept their heads down and refused to meet their cursed eyes. The officers came upon the boy's jail cell. The cellmates cowered in their presence. Like roaches, they scurried to hide into the farthest corners. The jail cell opened and the officers tossed the boy inside. He cried out as he hit the floor earning himself a kick from one of the officers. 

No one said a word as the officers continued to abuse him. None were brave enough to...except one.

"Hey, assholes!" A voice shouted from the far end of the hall. 

The officers stopped in mid blow and turned their heads toward the source. The air in the hall grew cold. The inmates stifled and shrunk further in their cells. They didn't want to look suspect. The men retreated from the cell and shoved the door closed. They made their way towards the end of the hall where the rebellious inmate was. 

"You guys already had your fun time. Leave him alone." the voice ordered.

The owner of it was a petite, scraggly girl. She sat alone in her cell. Her body was covered in dirt and grime. Her bronze skin looked pale and discolored. Wispy veins appeared around her cheeks. Her long, greasy black hair stuck around her thin face.

The girl narrowed her eyes as the officers approached her cell. With their grim faces and lifeless eyes, they all appeared the same to her. But one did stand out to her. He pushed his way from between the other two. Gazing down at the girl, he smiled wickedly. 

"Iris," he called. 

Her brown eyes changed. Like a flash of light, they flickered into a bright purple.