There are people staring at us through the bars, their eyes glimmering silver in the dim light, and their teeth bared in their smirks. They don’t seem to hear the screams, the cries that are thrown out of the cage along with arms, tears, spit and blood. Finally, when a curse slips through the metal bars, one of them steps forward; his pointy-toothed smirk replaced with a snarl that makes a hush fall over the crowd and the blood in my veins to freeze. The sound of feet shuffling is dominant as the dirt-covered people push aside, forcing the children to the very back of the cage as a ragged man is hurtled at the bars by his own. He doesn’t do anything to retaliate, other than to spit contemptuously at the large-bellied men that had pushed him away like a leper.
The metal groans as the door is forced open, and a tall, mountain of a man steps into the cage. His eyes are masked, but even in the darkness, I can just barely make out the faintest hint of green that colour his eyes as he slams the baton into the man’s protruding belly. To his credit, the man doesn’t make a sound throughout the beating, his breathing growing harsher and harsher until he finally emits a whine when the blows stop.
“Get back to being useless,” the masked man spits out as he leaves the cage, his words more painful than any whipping we’d been given. I stare out as he walks away, tossing the baton aside like it was infected with disease as he bumps knuckles with another masked man. There are only two words he needs to say that make me go back to sitting mindlessly in the spot I’d managed to find.
“Bloody outsiders …”