Free Golden Hue by Zachary Stone Page B

her to recite her address and parent's name in school.
     
    “My mother's name is Emily Smith,” I said. “I want to see her too.”
     
    “Is your mom nice?” she asked.
     
    “Yes,” I said. “She’s very nice. I love her.”
     
    “I wish she was here. I'm so hungry,” she said.
     
    I lifted my head back in disgust. That sorry no good preacher was a monster for torturing and starving the little girl.
     
    “As soon as we get out of here we will go get something to eat,” I said. “I just need you to be brave and strong until then. Can you do that?”
     
    “I'll try,” she said. “But I don't feel good.”
     
    The little girl started to cough.
     
    “Just hang in there,” I said. “We will get out of here.”
     
    “But the bad men out there won't let us go,” she said.
     
    “I have friends who’ll come and get us out of here,” I said. “They’re stronger than the bad men.”
     
    “They are?” she asked, before coughing again.
     
    “Yes, they’re very strong,” I said.
     
    I continued to talk to the girl, but eventually I could feel my stomach growling. Although I didn’t know how long I’d been in the cell, it seemed like at least twelve hours or longer. I decided to stop talking to the girl; I didn’t want the reminder that she was in the cage with me.
     
    When Demetrius came into the room to weaken me once again, I began to speak to him.
     
    “Please bring the girl some food and water,” I said. “If you’re any kind of preacher please don't allow this innocent girl to suffer. Don't you remember Jesus saying that it would be better to have a millstone hung around your neck and be tossed into the depths of the ocean than to harm a child?”
     
    He paused and looked at me before leaving the room. A moment later, he returned with a glass of water and a candy bar for the child. He handed them to the girl through the bars of the cell. The girl quickly started to gulp down the water.
     
    Demetrius left the room.
     
    I could see the little girl was having problems opening the candy bar. She was so weak that tearing open the candy bar was too difficult of a task for her.
     
    “Would you open this for me?” she asked. “We can share.”
     
    I crawled over towards the girl. My stomach growled at the scent of both her and the candy bar.
     
    “Focus,” I thought to myself. “Don't think about the scent.”
     
    I opened the candy bar and gave it to her.
     
    “Do you want some?” she said, breaking off a piece and attempting to hand it to me.
     
    I was not about to take food out of the mouth of the beaten, abused girl.
     
    “No, it's yours,” I said. “I'm fine. You enjoy it.”
     
    She quickly consumed the entire candy bar.
     
    I retreated back to my corner of the cell. As I curled up and faced the wall, I tried to fill my mind with thoughts of Cathy. In my mind, I imagined sitting with her in the back of Sarah's van. The thought of having my arms wrapped around her comforted me. I shut my eyes and went to sleep.
     
    A sharp, painful sensation on my back awakened me, along with a loud cracking sound. I cried in agony as I turned around, and felt the end of the whip strike me across the face. Managing to open my eyes, I saw Demetrius standing beside a vampire holding the long, leather whip.
     
    Again I was struck by the whip. The pain shot through my body, and I screamed as I was repeatedly beaten.
     
    I tried to pull myself together and summon all the self-control that I could so as not to show how much pain I was in. When the next strike of the whip hit me, I felt the searing pain, but this time I didn't make a sound.
     
    “Is that all you got?” I managed to say. “You’re so pathetic.”
     
    He pulled out a knife.
     
    “Don't kill him,” Demetrius ordered. “Just bleed him.”
     
    The vampire reached down, took my arm, and slashed into my wrist. Blood began to pour out of the wound. Once again, I didn’t let them see that I was in pain, but the