Were all MAD here

"Whats in there?"

⚠️ Minor trigger warning ⚠️

—Wren—

"Who wants to go first?" The Man said in a mock cheery tone. What did he expect us to say? Yes sir, me and my friends would love to do heaven knows what with you, Please, oh please, give us the honor of being first.
"You, what's your name?" He demanded, gesturing to me.
"Wren." I replied, grimacing at how childish and helpless I sounded next to his rough voice.
"Follow me." He said gruffly, looking back at me,"Wren." He continued.
I don't know why he had asked, considering right after our little conversation, he un-cuffed me anyway and held my hands behind my back in a crooked and bent way.
"Shiva, Keep them here until I need them." He said, speaking to the beast. It made a puffy sighing sound, wet nose shimmering. Beyond the ivory gate, a nice little town stood, three symmetrical buildings, lined with dirt paths and rainbow flowerbeds. And one large building that stuck out like a sore thumb, slick and white and...expensive looking. The Man dragged me along the dirt path, my feet dragging as I tried to keep up with him.

"I know how to walk, and I'm not stupid enough to run away." I scoffed. The Man loosened his grip but did not let go, hot rancid breath warming my shoulder were he layer his chin.

"This is easier for the both of us." He said with a deranged smile. I was led past the three perfect houses, to the fourth one.

"What's in here?" I admired the sleek and futuristic build of the shack, glass panes covering half of it, reflecting rows upon rows of rooms with straight numbers lining them. 1, 3, 5, 7, 9. the quarts plaques read on one side.

The Man led me into the black door marked three, revealing a white bed. All the color drained from my face at the sight of it. He...he wouldn't. He wasn't this low. He had a fluffy animal as a pet and could be nice if he tried. This couldn't be what he planned. I started shaking, and broke away from him in one swift move, backed up against the door. Everything was hot and blurry. The Man looked confused.

"Aren't you tired? Is this ok, or do you sleep with a light or something?" He offered, opening the door again. His voice turned harsh again. "I don't have enough beds for all of your friends, wich one do you hate the least?" The world stopped spinning, I had control over my knees, my hands where no longer shaking. I cracked a smile with my chapped lips.

"Just bring in anyone." I whispered, indifferent. I instantly regretted saying that. I wasn't about to share a bed with Feng, was I? When The Man left room three, I decided to look around. It was no palace, but it had a squishy mattress and fluffy blankets, Throw pillows with different designs plastered on them, And even a white pair of pajama pants and a top. I happily slid of the dress, dropping it to the ground. I unlaced my corset and slid into the pajamas, the fabric felt like water, smooth against my legs and chest. My arm the beast sliced open wasn't too bad, still bleeding ever so slightly, but I had become desensitized to the pain. I lay on my bed and burrowed myself under the covers. Just a couple more days Mom...I'm almost there.

XXX
I woke up with a bitter pain in my injured arm. The thin, White bandage fell off, but now I saw it wasn't worthless. During the night, I had probably subconsciously ripped it off, and now, I was bleeding all over the crisp, soft, sheets. And...it felt like knives were constantly being stabbed at my arm...I looked over to come to the bitter realization that they were. I was no longer in my bed as I had thought, but on a stiff, papery surgery table. A strange needle and thread were sewing up my crimson gash. The hands that did them where gentle and—though they where ungloved— they where clean.

"Don't move." The ugly voice I knew to be the Man's exclaimed. I watched in fascination as the needle would go in, and come out, in one swift move. Then the next stitch would start. Three more stitches, the pain is tolerable when I'm not paying attention. Two more stitches. I wonder what Mom's doing back at home...One more stitch. I wonder why he's helping me. No more stitches, the man used his teeth to cut the string, but some of it still dangled.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked in fascination. He set down the needle and started cleaning up.

"You want to know the truth?" He asked, pausing. I pretended I was going to think about this question. I nodded. He laughed, apparently I wasn't as good of an actress as I thought.
"It's not because I like you and your rag-tag friends, rather, the opposite entirely." He continued. "People—" he cut off. "And other things, are how I make my living. I catch a few dumb children, and creatures, and I pretty you up and sell you off." I sat astounded. It made sense, he had made it clear this whole time that he wanted nothing to do with us but...I was mad, I thought there was a glimmer of good inside him, that he was cleaning us up out of the goodness of his heart.

"Oh don't be mad, it's nothing personal." He grumbled, I felt my face and realized it was an angry pink. He turned back to me.
"You want to volunteer one of your friends to go first for the—" his voice turned an octave higher. "Prettifying?" He finished. I grimaced. It was tempting to volunteer Feng, I still wasn't over our little fight, besides, it was his fault he didn't untie me-it's his fault we're still here. But, I wanted to get over with whatever it was.

"Can I go first?"

"Love the enthusiasm!" He joked. I didn't laugh. This guy was starting to annoy me. One minute he was 'I hate everyone I'm going to throw you into a cart.' Then it was 'do you need a light to sleep?' Then it was 'I'm only helping you for my own profit.' And now it was 'want to joke around with me while I stitch up your arm and am about to braid your hair or something?'

He led me out of room four to room one with an ugly grin on his face. He opened it and it was...just a washroom? I looked at it, trying to figure out what it is I needed to do to move onto the next stage of helplessness.

"You know how to use a washtub right?" He said gesturing over to the murky water filled barrel with the top cut off. "Or do you want to invite someone you really like over to show you how?" He joked. "Towels are over there." He made a vague gesture to the cabinet with a built in sink and mirror, then he left. I undressed, leaving the shiny silk on the floor and looking into the mirror.
What had happened to me? My hair looked like something had tried to make a nest of it, my makeup was smeared, and I had purple spots and cuts ranging from a paper cut like scratch to the one on my arm that had gotten stitched up. Beneath it all, all the tough looking scratches and the hard look in my eyes, I looked like I always was— fragile.
I didn't look at it anymore. And I didn't want to. I recognized that person as the one I tried to get away from when I fell down here. This person was the reason I wasn't with mom curled up by the fire, the reason Diane ran off, the reason Dad had to leave us to fight a stupid war...and I hated her.
I climbed into the makeshift tub, and felt all the dirt wash away from my body, I dunked it further, and the filth washed away from my head. It was peaceful in here, everything was silent and nice. I felt the wood like material of the washtub brush against my foot. I came back up gasping for air. I had forgotten I needed to breathe. I took the soap that was gingerly placed on the rim and used it. Then despite my desires, I got out. I was dripping wet and I dribbled all over the floor, and the pajamas. I opened up the cabinet drawers. And found three white towels rolled up. I wrapped one up around me, and one around my hair. Then, I walked to the door, ready for whatever else I would have to do.