He understands! I knew drawing would be a useful skill in my life someday! Uncle says it's pointless but his judgment is often flawed anyway.

At least.... I think he understands...

Yeah it was a lot of work just to let him know that my mother is here but hey, we have to work with what we've got after all.

I glance over at the boy as he rips another minuscule piece of his bread. He must be trying to save it or something. I've scarfed down my portion like the fool I am. It's done nothing to fill the bottomless put on my stomach over. My face drops from the boy's to his portion of bread. I try not to stare and drool, feeling awfully rude.

He chews slowly. Before long he notices me staring. I break my gaze, embarrassed. Out of the corner of my eye I see him glance at his bread, then back at me. He moves towards me and pats me so gently, that I don't even flinch this time. I look up at him, the bread in his hand extended towards me. I can't help but stare at it longingly for a moment before snapping out of my trance once more. I shake my head viscously and shove his arm back towards him.

His shoulders go up and down in one quick motion as a smile plays on his lips. He takes my hand, opens my palm and firmly places the remainder of his loaf into my hands.

My head screams, "Give it back!" but my stomach rumbles with eager anticipation. I shove the bread into my mouth. The boy's features darken as he watches me attack the food ravenously.

I feel bad, but I'm also extremely grateful. I won't let him do that next time I just... I... I'm hungry... I want some of my strength back...

I don't want to die.

I can't die. Not now. Mother is here! Mother is back. If I die...

I was at the point where I almost... Almost didn't care if I died at the hand of my uncle. I had felt I had nothing to live for. But now mother is here. Mother is here, and I am here. Separate still, but closer than we've ever been. I don't want to die. I don't want Mother to grieve me. In her state, grieving could be the thing to put her over the edge.

Grieving could kill her.

        ____________________

I don't remember when I fell asleep. But I'll never forget waking up.

A gasp of air escapes my mouth as a punch knocks me right out of my sleep. I began to habitually back up towards the wall, feeling for a moment as if I were back home receiving my beatings. The man smacks me again before I can get far and as I fall onto my side, everything that has happened in seemingly no time comes flooding back.

Tears once more beg to escape the prison that is my eyes but I refused to let them out. Crying, for some twisted reason will only make them beat me more. I have to avoid as many blows as possible. I will be strong. I will be strong for Mother.

I catch the boy's eyes for a moment just before another man shoves him out the front door of our little shack. I could sense his fear and the sick joy of those using us. I am pushed out along with him, so violently I fear I'll fall over right there. The two men tie the hands of the boy and I with the thick rope once again.

The boy looks my way once more and time seems to freeze. His eyes search mine so deeply that for a moment I forget what's happening. I forget the fear of whatever is about to happen. All I can do is stare back at him. All u can do is wonder. Wonder why I feel that he actually cares for me. Why he seems to be more concerned about me than himself. The only person who ever really cared for me was Mother.

What felt like heavenly eternity is interrupted all too soon as we are pushed onward.

For miles... We walk.

I figure we've walked about the same distance as I used to every day for water when I notice an area of a bit more vegetation as well as other people. I steal a glance at the boy again, wondering if he has any reassurance in that gaze of his. But his eyes are wild. I furrow my eyebrows and try to see where he's looking. It doesn't take long.

The flaming locks of hair against pale skin aren't hard to spot.

Odette.

She's a long way off but close enough to see a little. She's holding some sort of tool on her hand. A man stands guard smirking at her. Suddenly, he brings a whip like structure on Odette's back.

I think Chris screamed her name because his mouth splits open as his eyes rage and immediately he's on the ground.

Even from here, you can tell Odette is not about to give the cruel men the satisfaction of knowing how much pain she's in.

I bite my lip and the tears finally when their battle, just barely squeezing over the top of my eyelids as inside, I cry a river.

No, no, no!

This is my fault. They came to help me. I don't know why they did it, but they did. They had perfectly good lives I'm sure, and a perfectly good story to tell when they got back home. A perfectly good story about how they... Helped our school with whatever they were doing...

Because of me, their lives are ruined.

Why? I internally scream to nobody.

Why did they see me as worth risking this for?

What did I matter to them?

What had I ever mattered to anyone?

The men untie our hands but continue to kick and push us on. Suddenly, they stop and I'm yanked around to face my captor. He begins barking at me and all I can do is stare, terrified.

Out of nowhere the man who had been hauling the boy takes out my legs from under me.

I can't think straight for a moment. I lift my head up to find the boy once more on the ground next to me.

That's when my mind finally catches up to me and I realize something.

Neither of us can understand their orders.

A chill unlike anything I've felt before crawls it's way up my spine, slow and menacing.

What do they do to slaves who can't do what they command?