OUTSIDE, THE STORM brewed on. Thunder crackled only moments after a brilliant bolt of lightning tore through the skies, jumping from one cloud to another. This short, fleeting action by Nature was enough to illuminate the world of mortals below. With the storm, gathered the clouds. Sunlight could no longer be seen, blocked by heavy puffs of dark gray that hung from the heavens.

In fact, Devora wasn't even fully sure that it was daybreak outside. She had already lost her sense of time.

She had found her own corner away from the rest of her cellmates. In her own spot, she rested her chin on her knees, arms wrapped around her legs to preserve as much warmth as possible. The three siblings that Devora had just conversed with were in their own little corner, just a few meters away from Devora. After all, the room wasn't overly spacious, to begin with.

It seemed as though the three had fallen asleep to the rain's lullaby. Or at least, they appeared to be asleep. They had been quiet for far too long. Arguments could no longer be heard from Travis's or Leah's lips. In fact, the entire room was wordless, no one conversing at all despite the thirty-something people that filled the place. Occasionally, echoes of young Tammy's whimper would fill the confined area but even those quietened down within a few short seconds.

The noise never lasted. It was too quiet, almost chilling to the bone.

Sounds of swinging keys and the clicking of boots boomed from the corridor outside. Without warning, the door opened to reveal a burly man, the sudden action causing Devora to jump slightly in fright. From the minimal lighting the corridors provided, a backlight was cast onto the man. It was plentiful to see his appearance, not not in detail due to where Devora sat in the room. He had large tattoos that decorated his entire body, starting from his neck and trailing off into the collar of his loosely fitted shirt. The tattoos allowed his skin to set ablaze with multiple colors, the ink curling to reveal haunting designs of skulls and dragons.

From her little dark corner, Devora shivered, curling into a tighter ball on reflex due to fear. The man's eyes were like the devil's, gleaming maliciously as he scanned the area with a sneer.

"Dinner time, yer little scrumps."

All too casually, he threw a dozen or so rock-hard items onto the ground. Crumbs split off the sides of the objects due to the impact, sending it flying in all directions of the room. Immediately, a filthy and pungent smell infiltrated the room. Devora scrunched up her nose in disgust, eyeing the dozen or so balls that now laid on the ground near the man's feet. She tried her best to resist the urge to gag, biting down on her inner cheeks even though the sour taste in her mouth only grew.

The man said nothing more, turning on his heels, leaving the room with an ear-splitting bang of the door as the lock clicked shut.

As soon as his shadow disappeared from the walls, a few of the children started to crawl out from the dark. They edged nearer to the objects the man had thrown, prodding it with their fingers only to withdraw in revulsion. Some of the more desperate ones that had been starved to their wit's end dared to pick it up, biting into it only to either spit it out immediately or not even succeed in biting through at all.

Cautiously, Devora stretched out an arm to poke at the mysterious object as well. It was hard to the touch with rough jags and a rock-like texture. The little cookies smelled strongly like a mixture of rotten eggs and blue cheese, a sickening combination. In her head, she couldn't help but applaud the bravery of those children that actually had the guts to attempt to ingest such a foul and poor excuse of a food.

"What the hell is that thing?" She questioned aloud to herself, wiping her finger on the cotton tee.

"It's the food they serve us," Travis replied, his voice echoing slightly, bouncing off the walls. He crouched near Devora, picking up three of the wretched cookies. He chucked them into the pockets of his jacket. "Not very sure what it's made of but they probably won't kill us off so easily if they're planning on selling us. Strangely enough, Tammy likes this stuff."

"That is revolting." Devora groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as the putrid scent began to spread. "How can anyone eat such a thing?"

To her side, Travis calmly stood to his feet, walking the few short steps towards where Tammy and Leah sat before squatting back down. A hand on each of their shoulders, he gently shook them awake, waiting for them to rub the sleep out of their eyes before he reached into his pockets. Devora watched, jaw hanging agape and eyes wide as he handed the cookies to Leah and Tammy, one each. Both girls received the food, one with more enthusiasm than the other. Nonetheless, they bit into it, gnawing at the impossibly dreadful cookie like it was heaven on earth.

He made his way back to Devora's side after that, sitting down right beside her with a sigh before he took out the last cookie he kept in his pocket. Munching on it, he chewed wordlessly for a bit before swallowing, staring at it as it rested in the palm of his hand.

"When you're raised on leftover food and expired groceries, you learn to appreciate the slightly finer things in life, I guess. After all, this isn't the worst food I've had in order to get by." Ever so calmly, he took another bite out of it. The cookie was so brittle that crumbs began to fall off just from that bite alone, dropping onto Travis's lap. "There's nothing much to compare this to. I guess that's why we don't mind the taste so much. It fills the stomach and that's enough."

Guilt began to overwhelm Devora when she heard Travis's reply. It twisted in her gut, pulling and wrenching, assaulting her along with the rancid smell that she couldn't get herself to tolerate no matter what. Nevertheless, she couldn't stop the apology that spilled from her lips.

"I'm sorry," she said, head hung low. "That was very inconsiderate of me."

With the last bite of the cookie gone, Travis dusted his hands together to get rid of the leftover crumbs that still clung onto his fingertips.

"It's okay," he replied with a slight shrug. "I'm used to it. You get used to things after some time, whether you like it or not."

Travis's forlorn words caused Devora to grimace slightly, playing with her fingers as an awkward silence ensued. Her life might've not been the best but she had enough blessings to make each and every day smooth sailing. Or at least, more so than the less fortunate.

Just then, a brilliant idea flooded Devora's mind. She perked up excitedly, her back straightening all of a sudden as she turned and grabbed Travis's arm. In her delight, she shook the poor boy violently in order to grasp his attention, the force causing his entire body to sway left and right according to her movements.

"I have an idea!" She exclaimed, a grin forming as Travis stared back in complete, utter confusion. "How often do they come in to give us food?"

Travis shrugged slightly, unsure. "Twice daily? Maybe? They certainly don't provide us with enough food all three meals a day, that's for sure. They come by every twelve hours or so. It's rough but it keeps us alive. Just barely. We're all street kids here. None of us were ever served anything on a silver platter so we're used to skipping a couple of meals a week."

The more Devora's eyes sparkled, the more the unsettling feeling in his stomach grew. She looked at him with puppy eyes, wide and round with hope and even a touch of insanity. The thoughts that ran through her brain at that moment could be anything but safe, that much was easily derived.

Scrunching up his nose, Travis shook his head in disapproval.

"Whatever you're thinking of, I don't want to hear it," he said, rejecting her ideas before even listening to the girl speak.

Devora's forehead wrinkled. "I thought you were in favor of breaking us all out of here?"

"They're three times our size. If we charge out there with nothing but our bare fists, we're bound to get ourselves thrown back in here within seconds. Or worse, killed," he deadpanned.

"Yes, and that's why we're not charging out with our bare fists." Crawling over to the pile of leftover cookies, Devora grabbed a quick handful before scrambling back, throwing some into Travis's arms. Not much of it was eaten since its pungent smell was a pure assault on the senses. However, it had more uses than just one. "These may not be edible but they'll do perfectly as some form of throwing stones against the guards. We have enough here. No one else eats this thing other than you and your siblings."

"It's a suicide mission." Pointing to the door, eyes tinged mad with fear, Travis all but cried out, "They have guns! What're a few cookies going to do to them?"

"They can't sell damaged goods," Devora replied evenly. "If they're really planning on selling us, we can't be too injured or they'll never be able to get a buyer. That's our upper hand."

"And what if what you're betting on it wrong? What if they're willing to sacrifice a few of our lives if it meant getting the rest of the sheep back into the pen?"

Scoffing, Devora reached over to grab the cookies she had passed to Travis, tucking them under her arms.

"Then you can wait in here if you want. I, for one, am not about to stay here and wait for some miracle to happen. No one here knows for sure what they're planning to do with us and I will not allow myself to become a lab rat for them to play around with."

Travis grew silent, his eyes downcast. Thumbs twiddling, he couldn't bring himself to utter another word. However, his fear was obvious. He practically reeked of it, not that Devora could blame him. They were, after all, mere children just short of adulthood. They didn't have weapons on them — not that they knew how to use one properly even if they did — and they've lived their whole lives scorned by someone higher up the food chain. It does things to children's mental health, to have constantly lived in a dark place without the guidance of light.

"But we'll be safe for a little while longer if we stay quiet," Travis murmured after a long time, voice barely audible. "We might live."

"And if you don't?" Devora countered. "Would you rather die in here knowing you could've tried? Knowing that you weren't ballsy enough to fight for your own freedom and hence led to your own destruction?"

The boy released a long sigh, his shoulders sinking just as he pivoted his head to look back at his younger sisters. Teeth chewing on his bottom lip, Travis still succumbed to peer pressure.

"Leah wouldn't like it," he muttered.

"Yeah, I gathered." Lightly tossing one of their supposed dinners to test its weight, an evil grin found its way onto Devora's features. "Leah doesn't like anything."

————

social media:

instagram: twelvewonderingstars (personal: aurorayeo)

twitter: aurorayeo (personal: aurorayyq)

facebook: twelvewonderingstars