Eight

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Hanif

The cot in my cell was all too welcoming tonight. After a long day of working off what the Warden called "my smart mouth," my limbs hardly felt connected to my body anymore. My whole body ached, but the pain seemed to radiate especially around my still healing nose and ribs. When the guard slammed the cell door shut behind me, I practically fell onto my bed. The hard wood and prickly straw stung my bare chest, but I was used to it. And after today, it was the best feeling in the whole world.

Sleep drew me in almost instantly, pulling me into a deep, dreamless rest. I knew I'd be out cold until the obnoxious clanging of the morning bell rung. And I only hoped nothing would disturb my sleep until then.

{~*~}

So much for restful sleep. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, I was grabbed from my cot and shoved to the floor, effectively waking me up. I forced myself to rise even though the fog on my mind encouraged me to go back to bed. To sleep, and ignore whoever was trying to wake me up.

But when a hard boot struck my stomach, I knew my sleep was done. Pain radiated up my ribs, striking so deep it felt like my very bones had shattered. I couldn't contain the moan that slipped past my clenched teeth.

I didn't bother to struggle as two guards hauled me to my feet and out of my cell. I had no idea where we were headed, but I knew they wouldn't answer any of my questions. If I was lucky, they would ignore me. If not, I'd end up with a fist in my stomach. And my ribs were in no mood for that.

The rest of the prison was silent except for the occasional moans coming from beneath our feet where solitary and the other horrors were kept. I was brought out of the cell block and past the cafeteria, the room dark and empty. The guards pulled me down a hallway I hadn't been to before, then pulled me to a stop in front of an oak door.

I waited on aching limbs as one of them opened the door and the other pushed me inside. Compared to the dim light of the hallway, it was midday in here. Pitch torches lined the back of the wall, and it took me several moments to get used to the sudden light.

Once I was able to see clearly, my confusion at being woken up so early only increased. The room was an office, and the Warden was sitting behind a desk. Beside the desk was the beautiful woman who had interrogated me several days ago. The Virtuoso, if I recalled correctly. She was cloaked in a deep blue uniform and grey cape, her golden red hair bound up in a braid over her shoulder. Her eyes were unyielding, her face an unreadable mask.

"Are you sure about this?" The Warden drawled to the woman, not taking his eyes off me. I took one glance about the room, but didn't see anything of use. The only weapons in sight were on the woman, and I knew that was a foolish thought.

"Yes," the woman replied, her tone terse. But her form and stature were loose, relaxed. The only hint of her distress was readable in her tight jaw.

"Very well. But I ask that you return him when you are done."

An alarm rang in my mind at his words. What was going on? What was this woman planning? And how in the flaming fire was I involved?

The woman gave a small dip of her head, and I was about to demand an explanation when two figures stepped out of the shadows on either side of me. "What the..." Before I could move, the two men I could only assume to be virtuosos grabbed my arms, their grips like steel.

"Get your hands off me," I growled, trying to shake their grips. I had no desire to be manhandled, and whatever this woman was planning I wanted no part in it.

"Let's go." The woman walked towards me, and her two companions steered me around and back out the door. Even though I struggled against their grips, it did no good. The men were as good as statues as they dragged me down the halls and out of the prison.

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