Diamond In The Rough

The Slave Company

Trigger Warnings : flashbacks of starvation, possible abandonment, implied & non graphic r*pe, conditioning, objectification, feeding dog food, mentions of self-deprecation.

Three years might have passed. He'd seen the winter pass three times, which meant he had been here for three years, right ?

Which also meant he was thirteen now.

Hansol stared at the ceiling, short breaths leaving his lips, exhaustion sticking to him like a leech. His bruises had turned a deep purple and greenish color, hips still sore from last night's playtime. His hunger had taken a toll on his body, too tired to move or even call and beg. His lips dry and tongue furred, he finally noticed something.

Someone was supposed to come here today like all the other times. Usually he would wake up with someone busy using him, but weirdly today no one was there yet.

Maybe they decided to let him rest ?

He doubted that though.

He painfully gritted his teeth as he turned on the side, huddling himself close, eyes falling on the handcuffs still around his red wrists.

Maybe it was still night time ?

Hansol closed his eyes after noticing his vision was starting to blur, exhaling shakily.

He briefly wondered how Sofia was doing.

Hansol woke up in the same position, completely disoriented. He didn't know how long he had passed out, but the fact no one had come so far, was not a good thing.

They either left and forgot about him or they were toying with his mind to see how long he could resist.

Well, he wasn't going to resist long without water and food.

That was it then ? He was going to die like that ?

Maybe it wasn't that bad. Maybe it was better for him to die and be free of this life he never wanted.

He knew he was supposed to be thankful as a slave, for everything they'd taught him, obey and be good, and nothing would happen to him.

But he'd been doing it for years and they still punished him for nothing, still used him for their own pleasure.

No matter what he did, he was bound to be hurt, wasn't he ?

Which meant, dying was his best option.

But a part of his brain wasn't agreeing at all. He was still young and maybe something good could happen to him if he continued to hope ?

What's the point of hoping ?

Hansol drifted to sleep.

Hansol's survival instinct kicked in too late. He was too tired to move, to even open his eyes, throat dry and mind yelling at him to move and get up- but he couldn't.

His ears perked up when he heard some shuffling and his shoulders relaxed. They didn't forgot about him, they were back to take him and he'd finally be able to eat something even if it was rotten or something-