So I moved. The stone wall was the only help I could use at that moment. The distant light of the magical lamps on high up barely did anything to drive away the darkness as I crept in the way of the toilet.
For all that mattered, I was more resentful than I ever was at that moment. Perhaps that pain was tricking my mind to be, and I was powerless to do anything about it. My receptors were full of the agony to feel anything else, though I was sure the atmosphere was hot and stuffy.
"Halt!" Suddenly, a voice said behind me, but I was too engrossed in my pain and methodical walk to listen.
"Hey, are you deaf?" the voice said again and this time I figured out someone was yelling in my back. The voice was loud, but I only learned it was the voice of a woman as she spoke for the third time. "You shouldn't go that way at this time."
I halted and turned my head. The dim light provided me with a faint outline of a silhouette moving towards me. It was too dark for me to make out anything other than that.
"Where are you going?" the voice said again.
I wanted to say "to the toilet", but all that came out was an impolite grunt. "To Shit!"
Right, I wasn't in the right state of my mind.
"Do you have a problem with that?" I asked again, my voice coming out battered and ragged out of my throat.
"I don't," the woman said again as I found the silhouette drawing closer. "But you might get into trouble if you move on in that direction."
"Why?" Finally, I was able to see the outline of her face. Oval face, eyes, mouth, and nose, all at the right places. I was too tired to take notice of anything more, to be honest. The look in her eyes was solemn, which drew my attention the most.
Three weeks into this hell, I learned to read body language far better than what the nineteen years did for me.
"There are a few people that way," she said hesitantly. "They are doing some stuff. They might not like it if someone just barged in."
"What stuff? What people?" I asked, leaning against the wall.
"You know the stuff," the woman said again as if she didn't want to spill it out loud.
I was dull in my mind to even think about what she was talking about. "Why wouldn't they like it?" I heard myself say. "The latrine for all slaves. How can they monopolise that?"
The woman gave me a weird look. I didn't have the mindset to care about what look she was giving, but I think she was probably thinking if I was a dimwit or not.
However, she was a kinder soul in that hell. She could have left me there to on my own as she did her part of the warning. Most people didn't even bother, yet she talked so politely as if she was on a night stroll.
"Gosh, you'll get chewed on if you keep on going that way," she said, clutching my arm to move me. "Come on, right this way, there was another latrine in this way."
I was momentarily lost in what to do and was a little late to respond to her advances. The next moment, I fell on the ground, thankfully on the front, though I didn't know if it could be felt any worse than that.
I almost yelped out, swearing the names of all the ancestors of the slavers. Or I really did, as she gave me another peculiar look.
Then her eyes found countless lash marks on my back as they widened like saucers. "Oh dear lord!" she drew closer and helped me up through my groan. Only then I noticed her palms were colder than usual people. The coldness was soothing to the natural fiery environment. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. . ."
I groaned, not hiding behind the false sense of bravado just because she was a girl.
"Now you know," I said through a clenched jaw. "Just let me go."
The girl blinked at me, but didn't budge. "No," was all she said.
"No?" I was a bit confused.
"No," she said again. "Come on, let's go. I can't just leave you like this."
Yes, you can. I wanted to say that, but she was already pulling me by herself. I was a bit startled by her strength, but then I was completely overwhelmed, as for the first time, I discovered how beautiful she was.
Of course, she was doing her best to appear like a common slave girl, but she had the right thing about her that couldn't be hidden no matter how hard she tries. She had a perfectly symmetrical face, fair skin, and blue eyes that seemed to bear the weight of the world. I wasn't too sure if her hair was blond or white in the dim light, but it had the smell of freedom and solitude in them.
Wait, my receptors were all packed with the agony of the lashing. How could I smell her? I was probably recalling it from some other memory with her.
Saarya was about six feet tall, pale and scrawny. Anyway, I didn't know her name at our first meeting, but at the end of it, she changed my life.
"What are you looking at?" she asked, her tone sounding a bit disturbed as I was watching her like a fool.
"You. . ." My voice trailed off. Then I recognised something very peculiar. I was too engrossed in my misery to notice at first. "Wait, you're speaking English?"
The woman turned her head to meet my eyes. "Am I?" she asked, a glint in her eyes.
"But you look too beautiful and different to be of any ethnicity on earth," I said again, overlooking what she said.
"Oh, thank you," she replied, evident sarcasm in her tone, "you sure are a charmer."
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