A boy huddled in the corner of his cell.  The cell walls had a cobblestone look, and there were two sets of bunks or metal slats.  They used to rest three other people but not anymore.  The boy, who was around nineteen, sensed the General coming.  The General was the man in charge of handling the boy.  He was not tall and not big, but he had an overwhelming aura- almost a type of bloodlust anyone could sense.  

The boy used to be named Jack, but those days were now long gone; here, in this prison, he was called 173.  The General along with a guard marched in.  On the other side of the rusty, metal bars, the General wore a military uniform and loomed over 173 glaring a hole through the cell.  173 could tell something big was about to happen from the wide grin spreading across the General’s face as he approached the cage.  The general turned to the guard and said something in Chinese.  173 didn’t know Chinese but after a year of being held as a prisoner of war, he had caught on to some of the language- he had to or else he would end up like the others. 

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

The cell bars dragged on the floor as a guard pulled them open, producing an ear piercing screech.  173 stayed on the ground and willfully stared down the guard.  The guard was visibly angry by 173’s defiance.  He grabbed the boy’s hair that sat on his shoulders and dragged 173 out into the hall.  The general gave a nod at the guard.  With that, the guard continued to drag 173 down the hall by his hair as he shouted in pain.