Chapter 313: No one decides her fate
Days went by, and Abrielle wasn’t sure how many days it had been. Things haven’t changed much, only that instead of having a corpse as a cellmate, she actually had humans. The girls that were brought here with her.
The place seemed like an old castle of some sought. It was a large slave trafficking operation larger than Abrielle imagined.
The cellar was quiet at first, the kind of quiet that made every drip of water echo like a drumbeat. Silent whimpers and cries could be heard. Tears of longing, some of hunger. They were served once a day late when it was dark.
Cold and damp, the air smelled of old stone, mould, and rusted metal. The walls were rough and dark with age and dirt, and the floor was uneven with patches of standing water that soaked through thin soles.
Abrielle sat curled in a corner of her cell, knees drawn to her chest, her back resting against the cold wall.
A loud clang suddenly echoed through the cellar. The feeding bell.
The sound of keys and metal trays came next, followed by the heavy steps of the guards. Down the row, the other cells erupted with noise. Girls scrambled to the bars, arms stretched through to grab what little food was thrown their way. Bread. Water. Sometimes thinner than soup, other times nothing at all.
Those girls had given up on ever leaving unless they were bought. If you don’t get bought within a year a worse fate waits for you.
"It’s munching time, Come one, ladies, I don’t have all day." A deep masculine voice shouted waking up all the girls while he rang a bell. There were several women here from as young as 6 to their late thirties; some were sold, some were kidnapped, and basically, everyone here had bad luck.