He was right, of course. We had all been lied to and that was the only reason we ended up in that god-forsaken place.
“Now, think and use your senses,” added the boy. “Take a deep breath and smell the stench of fresh blood.”
We took a deep breath. I couldn’t smell anything. Another kid, though, confirmed the boy’s suspicion. “He’s right,” he said. “My dad works at a slaughterhouse, and I know this smell. It’s definitely blood.”
***
There is only silence now. The boy has stopped talking for some reason. I feel cold. Somewhere in the distance: a howl. Apparently, even the tiniest sound can reach this space. It’s so quiet my mind is playing tricks on me.
I have stopped asking about my sister’s whereabouts. Come to think of it — it’s better for her to be anywhere else but here. She is free to go anywhere she wants. And she can still beg for money from people.
I believe this is the end for me. I don’t know how many children are here at the moment, but I think everyone has given up as well. Not a single person is asking for their sister or brother. They are all silent.
One evening, I hear a ruckus coming from somewhere up above. I hear faint voices of people talking and shouting at each other, followed by a loud hard metallic pounding. My chest tightens. Something is happening. There is hope, at last! With each loud pounding, my body feels a little less trapped. Come on, I think to myself. Get me out of here.
Then, I feel the edge of sharp metal hit me on the arm. “I’ve found something!” somebody screams. His voice sounds urgent, almost terrified by the possibility of what he may have touched. Like any good spectator, I hold my breath for what’s to come. I hear footsteps rushing closer. And closer. And closer.
