Luana Wu (9) | STAFF REPORTER
I set the brick on top of the pile. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, exhaustion gnawing at me. I was so tired. My arms ached and my legs felt like they were collapsing. One more step and I was sure that I would fall to the ground.
I could feel the ache in my bones and the beads of sweat that rolled down my neck. There was just this tiredness that refused to go away. Every day felt like this. The same ache, the same weariness, the same feeling that I was going to die.
I stretched out my fingers, the palms of my hands rough and covered with callouses. My hands were practically shaking as I stumbled to grab another brick. The heaviness of the bricks was no surprise to me, but the bit of metal stuck to it was. It stabbed into my thumb, and I hissed. Drops of blood were already dripping onto the ground.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I froze. That sound… it sounded a lot like the sound my mother’s blood made when she’d been killed. More specifically, when her throat had been slit. I shook my head, clearing those thoughts, but they lingered. There was this unrelenting anger within me. Angry at my mom’s death. Angry at the men, who I now knew as the Red Hands, that killed my mom. Angry at myself for standing there and doing nothing as they took everything from me. Angry at my helplessness and weakness. My hands began shaking, and with a shout, I threw the brick. It broke in half. I was going to be in so much trouble, but somehow, I found that I didn’t care one bit.
“Having one of your temper tantrums?” A voice suddenly drawled behind me.
I didn’t have to turn to know who it was. “No, Captain,” I said, my voice coming out all high and squeaky.
“Really? It looks to me like you just threw that brick,” he said.
“It slipped from my hands,” I lied.
Then a hand landed on my shoulder and spun me around. I was met with the snarling face of the captain. His hard steel grey eyes bore into mine, his mouth curving into a nasty smile. “Lying to your captain, Miss Torres?” He made a sound of disapproval. “We both know that you threw that brick.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. The captain was a monster and a sadist. He was the one who kept all the slaves under his hand and if someone didn’t comply with the rules… things could get quite messy. He scared the wits out of everyone, but not me. Not when I knew that hurting me meant hurting himself. He was my uncle of some sorts, I supposed. Although, I didn’t consider him my family. He did absolutely nothing when my mom had been killed; instead, he had bowed before the Red Hands. Despite all that, he couldn’t bear hurting me.
“Fine,” I told him. “I threw it. Happy?”
“I’m far from happy,” he said, tilting my chin up. “This place is where work gets done. I don’t have time for little girls who think having tantrums is going to get them anywhere.” Then, he grinned at me. The captain nodded to the brick I had thrown. “Clean that up and finish transporting the rest of the bricks. Buildings cannot be built without bricks, niece.”
“I’ll get it done,” I promised.
“I’m sure you will. However, your act of—anger will not go unpunished,” he said. He thought to himself before saying to me, “You’re on kitchen duty for the rest of the month. Let the cook know after you’re done.”
I nodded. “Yes, I’ll get it done.”
“Yes what?” he asked, raising a brow.
“Yes, Captain,” I forced out.
The captain smiled at me once more and strode away, his boots kicking up sand. I heaved a sigh and bent down to pick up the broken brick. It had split right down the middle, making me wonder how much longer I could survive this torture before I finally broke.
