MADISON'S POV.
I'm thrown, literaly thrown back into the traincart, hitting my head hard against the steal ground when I land. The door is shut and locked again. I put my hand to the new bump on my head and when I look at my hand it's wet and sticky with blood, not much just a little. I'm more concerned about my arm its pumping blood, the blood flows down my arm like a river. Usually, the men here let us bleed out for a while before they come and help us.
Great! Thats gonna scar, just like the rest of them.
I look up at my crying sister who has tip-toed over to me to give me a hug and make sure i'm all right. My mother, who is now awake, stares at me with tears in her eyes and Nick who looks at me with sympathy. I don't want his sympathy though. I'm not that close to my brother Nick, we used to be, but not anymore. It's not that we don't get along but I think after a while in here we both decided to build our own walls around each other so if anything happened they wouldn't break down as much as they should. I still love him, he's my family.
I just don't want to get close to him because if I do and he dies, it would kill me. It's happened before with someone else, so I know what it feels like and I don't want to go through that again, but I don't want to think about that anymore
Anyways, I smile back at Nick to reasure him that I'm okay. I need to aid my arm before I can do anything else, not that there is anything you can do while stuck in a traincart. I pull my sock off of my foot and put it on my arm and apply pressure to it. Hopefully it will stop the bleeding. While doing this, I think about how we are ever going to get out of here. We will, I just don't know how.
I stare at the knife that I have hidden beside the massive doorframe. The men would never notice it, it's small enough and it's hidden by the shadows in the traincart. It's been there for about six months now, I think. We lose perception of time in here but they tell us when it's Christmas so we know each year has passed.
I want to use the knife but I've never had the right moment to use it. There are always men watching our every moves once the door is opened, some even have guns. I got the knife because I managed to smuggle it in here when I was in the torture rooms. The men left me unattended for once. I was tied up but one of the ropes were loose enough that I could just about reach the table next to me,where all their tools they hurt us with were. I saw the knife and reached as far as I could and with time and luck I got it and hid it in the waist band of my tattered jeans. It wasn't as if they would notice it was gone, there were loads of different knives, all different sizes.
I'm gonna use that knife to kill them so I can get my family out of here.
I look over to where Abbie is. She's asleep on the ground, curled into a small ball. I listen to her light snores and take in the sight of her.
She is beautiful but she would be even more if it weren't for the bruises that cover her arms, legs and her face. She has mousey blond hair that falls naturaly down past her shoulders and sits at her waist, her hair is long because we never got to cut it. Her skin is pale, like mine but her skin looks almost like cream and her red cheeks like roses. She has brown eyes, all of the children do, we got it from our father. Her nose is small and she has full lips that are a strawberry red colour. Sprinkled across her cheeks are a few brownish freckles. She is quite small for a nine year old.
My mother who is also asleep next to Abbie, has blue eyes which used to sparkle but not since dad died, not after all this happened. She has a crooked nose from it being broke a few times in the torture rooms. She has thin, chapped lips, her skin is pale and her brown hair comes down to just under her ribs.
Nick used to have pale skin like us too but it's now stained with purple and black bruises. He has brown hair that is untidy and it sticks out in different directions. His eyes are brown and he has stubble covering his jaw. Nick is three years older than me and Abbie is six years younger than me.
All of my family look sick and boney, malnourished. I'm not sure what I must look like but it can't be any better. We're usually fed about four times a week, sometimes less.
It's not that dark out. I can tell by the amount of light coming from under the door, the later and darker it gets outside the less light that comes under the door. If I were to guess now, I'd say it was early afternoon.
I'm tired but for some reason I don't want to sleep. The bleeding in my arm has gone but my sock is soaked in blood.
Great!
I look over to the opposite wall and stare at the target I carved with a rock. I would throw smaller rocks at it to practice my aim for when I needed to throw my knife. I was pretty good at it if I do say so myself.
BANG!!!
A bullet shot goes through the carts wall. Everyone wakes up from the loud noise.
BANG ! BANG !
Two more.
shit. shit. shit.
This can't be happening, maybe the men have come to kill us
"EVERYONE GET UP!!" I scream
All three of them are on their feet in seconds. I grab the knife and have it ready to throw or stab the first person who goes near us.
"GET BEHIND ME !" I scream.
They do as they're told without question, which surprises me.
I look at the holes in the metal wall which now shine dots of light into the compact area, casting shadows on our faces.
The men can't hear us screaming in both shock and fear now because there are too many bullets being shot outside. I hear lots of screaming too.
The shots sound loud and teasingly. Some shots are loud and others pop like fireworks. Each shot that erupts sends my heart into a frenzy and adrenaline oozes in my blood, making the pain in my arm disappear.
Suddenly, that's not important anymore.
After a few minutes of pure torture the shooting stops and we're left alone in a deafening silence. Moments pass and nobody says a word. Are we alone? Are we locked in here forever ? To die of starvation or blood loss ? I feel Abbie clutch the back of my ripped shirt, pulling me closer to her, away from the door, but I stand still, unmoving, waiting for a sign of something to happen. Suddenly a loud bang from the door makes us jump with fright. I stand tall and clutch my knife, not knowing what to do as the door slowly slides open and I brace myself.