As I lie half asleep on the rotting wooden board that is called my bed, I can't help but think about how being a slave on planet Dard is like existing in the jail cell from Hell.
Endless. Disgusting. Tortuous.
The worms that poke out of my "bed" from time to time used to bother me so much, but now they are almost like little friends. Some of the only creatures, aside from a few of the other slaves, that even exist on Dard and can also (sort of) be trusted.
Everything you see here is severe and gray - the cement floors and walls and ceilings, the metal-barred windows and doors, the electric, barbed-wire fences.
Nothing of beauty exists here - unless you have the means to create an illusion of it. There are no flowers or trees or pretty animals. No lakes or rivers. No green grass.
Nothing.
The food is stale and colorless. That is, if you get to eat.
Everything smells like gunpowder.
It's always cold.
The only sounds are those of machinery grinding and voices screaming in pain.
No music. No laughter.
Nothing.
Be thankful you don't live here.
It is like a nightmare you can't seem to wake up from and that you aren't even sure how you got into in the first place.
...
I wake to the sound of Sargon's whip cracking harshly against the cement floor.
Slowly, the thud of his big, black boots hits the ground, one step at a time. Please pass me tonight. It's freezing more than usual. I can't receive a lashing so close to Recruitment Day.
Thud, thud, thud.
Whip-ooooosh.
Someone a few beds down from me lets out a horrendously loud scream. I can't tell who it is. My body remains frozen. If Sargon senses that I'm awake, he will come after me for sure.
Thud, thud, thud.
Suddenly I feel a cold, rough hand on my ankle. Sargon slides his dirty fingers up my calf, over my knee and past my thigh. I continue to lie completely still.
Now his body hovers over mine. I can feel him leaning into me. His chest heaves. My heart pounds. I wish I could chop off his hands. I hate when he touches me. I use every ounce of my patience to remain calm. All I want to do is turn around and stab his face.
His hot, wet breath whispers in my ear.
"Karina, Karina. How sweet you look when you're dreaming. Does daddy's touch do nothing to stir you from your sleep tonight?"
My stomach churns. I can't stop thinking about how much I want to kill this disgusting creature.
Stay calm, Karina. Recruitment Day is almost here.
But even my stillness doesn't work this time. The first lash comes crashing down on my back so hard that I can feel the fresh, wet blood trickling down from my butt to my kneecap.
Lash after lash after lash. I cry hot, angry tears but allow no sound to escape from my body. Sargon doesn't deserve the satisfaction of knowing just how much pain he's actually inflicting upon me.
Once he gets bored of the fact that I am clearly not reacting to his provocations, Sargon gives me a swift kick in the gut and moves onto his next victim. I reel in pain. This sucks so much.
Less than two days, Karina. Just hold on. Recruitment Day is coming.