Soliloquy of the Broken Soul

Trapped and Alone

Did Luffy hate them for not saving him and breaking their promise?

They both sat there, mortified with themselves, only swayed out of their thoughts when they heard their cell door open. They both looked up blankly to see a guard at the door.

"You've got work, brats," he grunted.

Ace and Sabo both sighed and got up, following the guard to their next grueling job. But before leaving the cell, they flashed each other a glare of determination.

No. We haven't broken out promise yet. Luffy may not be with us, but he's still in this ship.

And we're going to save him, someday.

***

Luffy was sitting in the middle of a small room (more like a closet, really) clutching his hat tightly in his little arms.

His light breathing seemed to echo off the white, sound-proof walls, leaving him feeling even more hollow with every breath. Above him, was a single florescent light that barley lit the room and flickered every few seconds, threatening to send the child into pitch black darkness if he do much as blow on it.

Luffy was chained to the back wall with his seastone anklet, unable to move even three feet away from the wall without the chain interfering.

All in all, he was miserable.

The room itself was a mere hallway. Four and a half feet wide and about fifteen from the thick metal door to the back wall where they'd stuck him. It was claustrophobic to say the least, and Luffy would sometimes have a mental breakdown at his inability to escape or sprawl out without touching a wall.

In fact, Luffy would break down often about things such as this. The overwhelming silence, the absence of time or sunlight, the growing pain from hunger, the fact he hasn't touched a single living thing in who knows how long.

It all built up, and he would temporarily snap. But after what he assumed to be five minutes, he'd always regain himself and try to distract his mind once more with his hat or thoughts.

However, he hardly ever thought in his head now; no, that was a dangerous thing. If you think inside your head you ran the risk of it running rampant with you. Speaking out loud not only filled the empty space, but also kept Luffy's mind from constantly going into a dark place. It didn't matter what you talked about, per se, but just the fact that a voice was able to be heard was comforting, even if it was merely his own.

His endless babble would only be interrupted if his guard brought food, and since he had no sense of time, he kept little track of it. All he knew is that it was the same person every time.

In fact, he was here now. Luffy looked up at the man with his big chocolate eyes full of fearful longing. The guard came in and set the plate holding a single bread roll and glass of water down in front of him, and swiftly took away the last plate he'd left, now empty.

Every time the man drew near, Luffy would lunge at him, trying to even just barely touch his wrist or fingertips. But the man had learned from the first time Luffy had done this and never let it happen again. He would pull away sharply and stay just out of reach, as he watched painstakingly at Luffy struggling to stretch himself and reach him.

Luffy would try to make the man speak to him, too, but it was forbidden for the guard to say a word. So everyday, he had to watch the young six-year-old suffer and struggle to gain human interaction, and he himself fought inwardly every time he had to downright refuse the thing. Honestly, it hurt the guard more each time. He had sympathy for Luffy. The Celestial Dragons were capable of cruel things, but this, he had thought many times, was probably the worst. Especially seeing how much this particular child relied on human interaction, and was constantly crushed at his denial to receive it.