The next four days went by in blessed peace, with no surprises or bloodshed. He was still on scullery duty, but the silence was blissful. Physically, though? His hands were on fire and he was hungry. His joints pained him, and he desperately wanted a bath. But his wounds from the last whipping were nearly healed.

He'd been at the wash station for hours. His hands were waterlogged and swollen. The agents in the water stung the puckered cracks in palms, fingers, and knuckles. Due to concerns about his blood contaminating the water and dishes, he was finally granted gloves. Since his hands had already been soaking for the better part of the day, the gloves stuck to his skin and aggravated the sores.

He would rather be doing nearly any other task. Instead, he was shoved in the corner, away from any other sentient being, with only the dishes and two gray walls to stare at. He was growing stir-crazy. He'd not had a decent conversation since he left the Mavericks' quarters.

The other slaves were giving him space, as they would with anyone freshly returned from the Pit. Though they couldn't have known how much worse this time had been, he felt their stares and judgement. The muscles between his shoulder blades were tight as he felt their burning stares. He knew they had to know. Why else would they have ostracized him for so long?

When a guard had stormed into the cell block, dragging a high and stumbling Saedah, to throw him to the cell floor, there had been questioning stares. The guard had not unbound his hands from behind his back. The slaves were silent as they watched this unusual event.

Two extra dinner rolls and a clean blanket were thrown in with him, all of which landed on the concrete beside him. Saedah had been forced to eat his rolls from the grimy floor while kneeling and with his hands tied behind his back. It was hard for the neighboring slaves to not watch, but still no one questioned.

Using the blanket had been harder than eating the rolls. He eventually turned to neighboring slaves to help him get the blanket over him. With some hesitation, one finally helped him drape the coarse material over his shoulders.

Still, none voiced the questions they clearly wanted to ask.

It wasn't until the following day that the guards removed the manacles. Saedah was presented again with extra portions for his meal. He was even given new shorts and a pair of slippers. The other slaves watched with varying degrees of consternation and confusion. Some with greed and jealousy.

With his shift over and the Bliss pumping through his system, he leaned against the bars with the blanket draped over him. The slippers were wedged between his head and the bars, the closest thing to a pillow he'd had in ages. Aside from the hellish minutes on the breeder's bed. He was tired. His body was ready to rest. The only difference was that his stomach wasn't a painful void, gnawing at his backbone. His stomach was full, and it was a wonderful thing. He'd been hungry for so long, he'd almost forgotten how it felt to be sated. With the Bliss dulling the residual pain of his worn body, he was actually content, even if the others wouldn't speak with him.

When he woke on the fifth day, however, Akumini stood in the cell block with a small contingent of eight guards. The doctor hovered close behind them with Thalia bringing up the rear. Akumini was staring at him with both hatred and disgust wafting from her pores.

Saedah wisely stayed silent as he climbed to his feet. It was the first rational thing he had done in a long while, when facing Akumini. If he knew himself, he'd likely used up all of his available brain power for the day. If not the week.

He could see the girls slowly shifting to hide behind their male cellmates, but it did little to ease the building tension. Uneasy glances joined the shuffling of feet as the slaves edged away from the soldiers. Akumini simply stood there, breathing heavily and staring at him. She clenched and unclenched her fists, as though imagining them around his neck.

He could imagine it.

Hells, he could remember it.

The feeling of her fingers digging into his flesh, cutting off his air supply while he was strapped down and unable to fight back, was rather distinctive. Something like that was hard to forget. Granted, Akumini only resorted to strangulation when Saedah was particularly creative with his responses.

"You have cost me a lot of money." She finally spat through bared teeth. Her eyes bored into him as her scowl deepened. Saedah, despite feeling as though she were waiting for a response, again stayed silent. What was he supposed to say? Was he expected to do something? "It's about time you started working on your debt to me." Saedah was confused, to say the least. Debt? To HER?

She turned and strode away after a final glare. The loud clack clack of her heels echoed in silence as she stormed away. Even the soldiers' stances shifted as they edged well out of her way and attempted to avoid her notice. Then they unlocked the door. Saedah, knowing this could not be good, went to his knees and held his arms out, palms up.

Once Akumini was out of the hall, the guards rushed into the cell. Despite the fact that he was already kneeling and complying, they drug him bodily to the floor, then to the examination room. It was just another open cell, but this one shared a wall with the guard room. It was rarely used due to the fact that it was so close to the guards. The uniforms had long ago learned that they preferred the slaves as far away as possible. The slaves felt the same.

Four of the guards and the sun-blinded fool of a doctor entered the cell. The doctor swaggered in with her usual self-assurance and a smug smirk twisting her lips. The remaining four soldiers took posts outside the bars with their attention split between him and the other slaves. All of the guards' faces were grim, but their eyes held mirth and malice. While they checked their weapons for the umptenth time, the doctor began her work. The guards were twitchy, and that made Saedah twitchy. He forced himself to breathe steadily and make slow, deliberate movements while the doctor gave him orders. She ran him through a full physical. She had him bend his arms and legs this way and that, squat and balance on one foot, do push-ups, and even told him to turn his head and cough. Her hand was where he never wanted her touch. But he forced himself to stand still.

In addition to his own safety, he obediently followed all of her instructions knowing how the soldiers were watching the girls.

He'd learned their names: Desiree and Freya. They were fraternal twins, though one appeared older than the other. Desiree was larger and stronger than her sister. Freya was smaller and more fragile, in more ways than one. She was mentally weak, and it made protecting her all the more important.

The other slaves were watching the phenomenon out of curiosity. Very rarely did something occur to disrupt the routine. It was even rarer that an irregularity such as this event did not involve at least one of them receiving the whip, box, or death. The elder woman, the one who encouraged him to play his messages, was shaking her head and had turned her back on him.

Could things please stop getting worse? He asked the heavens, wondering what kind of god would permit this kind of inhumanity.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

The doctor conjured a set of vials and needles from the magic bottomless apron, and set upon his veins with vigor. The hateful witch possessed the uncanny ability to inflict the maximum amount of unnecessary pain to simply draw blood. He took his mind off the pain by analyzing the guards. It angered him, but that was a form of distraction, too.

The first two guards were paying him and Doc Stabby zero attention. They were leering and taunting the slaves, thoroughly entertained in the slaves' fear. The next was noisily ogling Desiree, who was holding Freya with her back to the soldiers. The clothing given to the slaves were of poor quality, thin, and falling apart. The skirts given to the females were no exception. Desiree's skirt had a seam running up her left thigh. The skirt was only held together by the topmost two inches. In the current position, the Guard was able to see nearly everything the skirt was supposed to cover.

The guard whistled for the fourth time in nearly as many minutes, and Saedah saw her shoulders shudder. Desiree was the stronger of the two, but even she had a breaking point. The two males of the cell were trying to protect the girls from view, but they weren't able to block the view from all. Saedah felt his features tense into a snarl before forcing himself to relax.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Deep breaths and relax the muscles. It was an exercise younglings would practice while learning the Calm. Don't do anything stupid, he thought, it's not worth it. The sound of shifting, arming weapons drew his eyes to the guards inside the cell and the charged weapons pointed at him, and he knew the futility of fighting. If he were to do anything foolish, he would not survive to regret it.

The next face was familiar. Saedah's eyebrows rose in shocked recognition as the guard from the studding looked back at him. The guard wore an expression of immense anger. He flashed teeth at Saedah then looked at the men around him. Saedah could feel the guard's anger building with each cat-call and hackle.

When the guard returned his attention to Saedah, it was to find the most triumphant 'told-ya-so' look Saedah could muster. Saedah knew the Guard was faced with the knowledge that his comrades were worse than animals. The guard, labeled only by the name tag 'Jones', had a new common interest shared with Saedah, though neither could do anything with this revelation.

The deranged needle-wielding old woman chose that moment to twist the needle just a tad more than she should have. It felt like the witch was trying to drill for marrow! He choked on a yelp and jerked his arm back. At having the needle unexpectedly jerked from her grasp, Hag unleashed an irritated outcry that, mixed with his own curses, had the guards snapping to attention and baring their weapons on Saedah with intent. The cell block echoed with a positively terrifying sound. The sound of numerous weapons chambering live rounds and humming with ready charges, all aimed at him.

Naturally, he froze. It was a great experience, having eight fully automatic rifles leveled at his head and other necessary parts. His heart was necessary. Most of his guts were too.

The fingers of his left hand were pressed into the bloody mess of his right arm, trying to stanch the steady flow. Moving his head slowly, he eyed each guard, facing down each barrel as he did so. To the soldiers, he appeared the picture of calm. Inside, he was a blubbering mess. This was a disaster waiting to happen. It would only take one trigger happy fool or an accidental discharge, and the rest would follow. He would be pumped so full of shrapnel that no miracle in the galaxy could revive him.

Part of him wanted it.

The other part wanted to see what would come of the promise from Nyx before he met the Maker. The two halves warred for a moment, filling the cell block with the hum of weapons, creak of gloves, and tense shifting of feet. Nyx and her promise won. He slowly lowered his right arm into the doctor's waiting hands, where she plucked the needle from his torn flesh. His left hand was held palm-out, in clear use of the universal sign of 'lower the guns, morons'. What could he have possibly done that would lead Akumini to approve the use of such deadly force? He was trapped in a cage, for Light's sake!

Holy Shit, he thought. There were a lot of guns pointed at him. Way more than he was comfortable with.

Eight more, to be precise.

Excluding the sounds from the water pipes overhead, pure silence reigned for the following fifteen minutes. The tension in the room was suffocating. There were still eight fully automatic high-powered rifles trained on him. Each minute that ticked by elevated his blood pressure. Each time the vindictive woman had to reposition the needle or start a new vial, he heard creaking grips and shifting stances. He knew she was doing it on purpose. She was far too adept at her job to use the needle so sloppily. Each moment with eight fingers on triggers was a moment too long; a moment closer to accidental discharge; a moment closer to a holey and wholly dead Saedah.

When she finally stood and declared that he was to be taken to the 'hall', he breathed a monumental sigh of relief. Half of the rifles were lowered and a set of cuffs were brandished.

"Akumini, I think, has given up on you." The doctor said, stretching as Jones cuffed Saedah. With that, Saedah imagined a life without pain. It was beautiful, and he showed all of his teeth in a triumphant smile. "Do not celebrate just yet." She laughed, patting his cheek. She was quick to withdraw her hand when he turned to snap at it. "She will be lenient with you no more."

With those foreboding words, she left. Thalia followed close behind her. Where had she been hiding?

The hall to where the guards were ordered to haul Saedah was moderately more opulent than the cages he had left behind. The cells were totally enclosed, had individual temperature control systems displayed in the glass, and a broadcast view on one wall. They had television! Though the cells were enclosed, only three walls were solid. The fourth, the inside wall along the hallway, was clear. These cells reminded Saedah of the first one he'd awoken in. The one in which he'd been subject to the audio torture during transport.

Each cell housed a large, well-cushioned bed and an enclosed toilet area. Personal affects adorned narrow shelves above a simple desk. Books, candles, audio devices, paper and art supplies adorned the shelves in the cells he passed. Fourteen cells lined the hall with seven on each side. Five of which were unlit and unfurnished. Of the remaining nine, eight were populated. One male sat in each of the eight rooms. Their races varied wildly.

There was a dark Baultoni, a striped Pteroisian, two scaled Agmidians, one spotted Neofei, and three humans. The Baultoni was not the largest he had seen, but was rather well proportioned. Where Nyx had been red, cream, and white, this Pteroisian male was striped in a vibrant orange, brown, and cream color scheme. The Agmidians' scales, what Saedah could see of the sleeping males around their heavy blankets, were of differing colors.

Seeing them made Saedah think of Vector. Vector's scales were deep blue along the iridescent edges. The stark, contrasting color made the scales stand out from his pale skin. These males were different, though. One was almost violet, while the other was teal. Those colors were quite uncommon, which begged the question of how they found themselves in such a situation. The three humans, like the Baultoni, were not exactly screaming 'rare item', but they were well-defined. All those but the sleeping Agmidians watched Saedah curiously.

Saedah decided they had to be on some sort of exercise regimen, as they were all in peak condition. He, on the other hand, was on the heavily emaciated side with plenty of scarring. There was also the problem of his ill-healed broken arm and nerve damage.

Suddenly, Saedah thought of a terrifying possibility. What if Akumini expected him to compete with these males in the pits? How the hells could Akumini expect him to compete with these? What was she thinking? Or was that what the Hag had meant by Akumini giving up on him?

They stopped at a lit and unoccupied cell, where the lead guard ungloved his hand and placed it in an outlined square on the glass. The glass split and opened into the warm room. Saedah was uncuffed and unceremoniously pushed inside.

"There are petition sheets on the desk for anything you wish to request. Requests are processed in three to five days, pending approval. Rehab starts tomorrow." The lead guard recited in an indifferent tone. "Any questions?"

"When should I expect my dose?" Saedah asked. A building headache was throbbing behind his eyes, and he wanted to get a dose before it reached full strength. The guard raised an eyebrow and clicked his tongue in irritation.

"I'll check." His voice dripped with derision, and the scathing glare he slid over Saedah said this one was not a friend. He stepped back with a hateful sneer still plastered on his spiteful face, and allowed the glass door to close. The two halves met seamlessly, the color changing to a dull, glowing red. Saedah read the backwards letters that appeared on the glass. The bold letters spelled 'unavailable' to the occupants of the hall.

As Jones walked by, he gave Saedah a side-long look that he couldn't quite decipher.