“My brother is dead, and though I breathe, I am more lost than he will ever be.”
I stare at my hands—dark red, almost violet in the dim chamber light. My thumbs and forefingers twitch involuntarily, nerves frayed beyond control. The bones beneath my skin feel like shards, slicing with every tremor. Tears return, replacing the blood the Green once licked from my cheek. The memory of his grin, the stench of Ren’s entrails on his breath, makes me shudder.
I’m naked, lying on the cold floor of a gothic house in a city I’ve only known through history lessons. We wandered for over an hour through the city’s blue mist, passing other Reds chained to their masters. Pathetic.
I examine my mutilated body. It’s been a day maybe longer, and already he’s torn skin from my arm. I lie on my right side to avoid pressing on the plate-sized wound on my left. My tears moisten my parched skin, only to dry it further with their salt. An endless cycle, much like my damned fate—to be tortured and die as a Red.
My chapped lips quiver. I cough weakly. I want to die. It’s pathetic. I am pathetic. My brother sacrificed himself for me, yet I contemplate squandering his gift. A dilemma. I yearn to forget the pain, both physical and mental. Yet, I also crave vengeance for Ren. I want to kill the Green, the Blues—everyone. But I know it won’t bring Ren back.
My cheek rests on the cool floor, which also sends pain through my back. It’s pointless, I tell myself. Pointless to live, knowing I can’t defeat them. Beings immune to bullets. Yet, I desperately want to kill them. My already weak jaw, that couldn’t even bite through a strawberry if there was one. They are superior; I am inferior.
I stare at my cracked toenails. My pupils are dilated; there’s barely any light in the room. It’s darker than the ship. I gasp as my lungs forget how to breathe. My left upper arm, where blood seeps from my flesh, throbs as if it’s being constricted. I flail my legs, trying to inch away from the silhouette in the light.
"Now, now. Why so shy?" The Green speaks. His face is different from yesterday—more masculine, with a blond mane resembling a lion’s. He runs his long index finger along the stair railing leading to me.
"N—" I attempt to speak, but only a weak breath escapes. I want to say no, insult him, tell him to leave, but nothing comes out.
"N? Blacks?" He laughs, amused. "Yes, I know a bit about your culture, even though the Blacks here are truly dreadful. Demons..." His tongue playfully glides over his green gums.
I look at him with flickering eyes, the light in my eyes causing pain. I try to raise my hands to shield myself, but I can only lift them to eye level. My neck trembles as I attempt to lift my head. A double chin forms, and I hear more laughter from the Green.
"Yes, that’s it, pig." The monster takes a large step, and in the next moment, despite being several meters away, he grabs my hair. "But pigs don’t have hair." He pulls me. My bare back scrapes against the uneven floor, forming abrasions. I gasp as his sheer strength tears out some of my hair. I grimace as he throws me back onto the table.
I struggle. I probably look like a stranded fish flailing, but I’m fighting for my life. My body feels so weak, as if I’m underwater. My lungs are crushed, my eyelids heavy. Cold sweat escapes my body, which reeks of feces and urine. The buckets of water dumped on me yesterday did little to help.
He runs his fingernails over my chest, then to my right shoulder, until he reaches the exposed flesh. I scream, though it’s just a loud breath. He laughs at me. His brown eyes, glowing green in the void. A sparkle like an emerald.
"A treasure dressed as a pig," says the Green creature as he continues to poke into my open flesh. He behaves like an unruly child exploring the world, his natural grin, so sincere, sends shivers down my spine alongside the pain.
Saliva drips from my painful mouth corners as he stabs his fingers into my red flesh. I feel the tips of his nails pressing against the bone of my upper arm. He pulls at my flesh. My mouth is open as I lie on the table with splayed fingers and toes. I look to the right, into the light, which, like on the ship, seems like a spark of hope shining on me. But hope fades. I can’t even scream.
My calves cramp. My bare back lies only on the smooth, cold table because the Green creature holds me down with his other hand. I soil myself. Not much comes out. My lower jaw is misaligned; I can’t even bite firmly. I press my own tongue against my throat, trying in vain to push away, but he continues to dig into my arm.
It’s so unfair. The light shines on me. I hear voices outside. They’re muffled. Footsteps through puddles, wheels too, but the loudest sound is my heart. It pumps, it beats. As if it wants to tear itself from my body. I feel my blood flowing throughout my body, like a river reaching the sea, and then back to the river.
Every muscle fiber in my body cramps. My eyes are tightly shut, my face wrinkled as if I’m in my mid-forties or fifties. My hope bursts as something fidgets in my arm. A hissing sound fills my ears. Warm liquid splashes on my face, making my already red world redder.
The Green moans blissfully, "Brachial artery." Out of the corner of my eye, I see only glowing green eyes. They’re no longer brown but green and without pupils. My breath is shallow, too fast. My heart beats even faster. Three times a second, no, four times. My arm is cold, my face warm. I taste my own blood.