There’s no longer a reason to fight, there’s no longer a need to breathe,
If she can’t see me, then I can no longer be.
Her hair, her smile, she makes living worthwhile.
Through the darkness, through the light, her soul ignites.
When will you see me, broken angel? When will you shine your love?
When will you take my hands, and make breathing easier?
When will you understand I’m incomplete without you?
Broken angel, oh broken angel, let me fix your beauty,
Let me strengthen your soul; let me be the reason you never dissolve.
My eyes flutter closed as Tyke’s soft voice takes over my senses. His fingers in my hair, the warmth radiating from his leg to my cheek, his intoxicating smell—all of it wraps me in a blanket warmer than anything money could ever buy. My body sinks further and further, until a peaceful darkness takes over. It takes over before I can fully make out the last words he breathes, but in my dreams, those words are clear. “Sleep, my beautiful broken angel.”
I’m his broken angel.
I can only dream.
CHAPTER THREE
THEN – Pippa
I’m not hungry. I’ve gone beyond hungry. The angry twisting in my belly has disappeared as my body starts taking what’s left on my bones. My eyes are sinking, my hair is dull, and my hip and rib bones have started to protrude from my skin as ugly reminders of the life I’ve been handed. My body is numb; my mind has closed down. I’m living each day in the pure hope that one day I’ll see my sister again.
She’s the only reason I’m fighting.
“Stop moving forward!”
I jerk and turn my head to see Rainer behind me. He’s another slave, and he’s angry. I’m always paired with him, and it’s becoming harder and harder to deal with. He’s around twenty-four, maybe more, and even though he seems bitter, he’s a handsome man. He’s got dark, messy hair and the blackest eyes I’ve ever seen. His body is big, muscled and bronzed. He looks as if he’s worked hard in his life.
Growing impatient with my lack of direction, he shoves me forward and I stumble, unable to take a step, and fall face-first into the ground. The hard, scratchy dirt glides like tiny razor blades over my hands and face, and I cry out in pain.
My feet, which are bound together by chains and joined to Rainer’s, refuse to help me back up. I struggle up, coughing from the dry dust filling my lungs. I manage to slide to my knees and stand on wobbly legs. My face is bleeding—so are my knees and hands. My heart aches and I turn to stare at Rainer, who has ignored my fall and is tending to the tobacco crops.
He doesn’t care. And why should he? I’m nobody to him. I’m just a slave, no different to the rest. No more special. If I felt the urge to cry, I would do it, but crying is something I don’t often do. It gets me nowhere, and it wastes good, solid energy.
I lick my dry lips and get back to work, despite my broken skin. It hurts, but I don’t complain. Complaining only ensures I don’t get fed, and I can’t afford that.
“I can’t take it anymore!”
The screaming comes from my left, where a young girl, who only arrived two weeks ago, is dragging her partner across the lawn, stumbling, as he tries to inch closer to the house. She’s waving her hands, which are the only things that are free, and screaming at the top of her lungs. Artreau appears on the porch of the massive home and stares at her.
She doesn’t stop. She leads her partner, who is now crawling desperately behind her, legs bound together. She throws her hands up and yells, “You can’t do this; it’s barbaric. I’d rather die than spend the rest of my life as your slave.”
Artreau’s face pinches and he storms down the patio, reaching into his jacket. He pulls out a gun and everyone stops, each body no doubt doing the same as mine—going stone cold. He stalks towards her, pointing the gun at her head. She doesn’t stop, and I wonder if she wants him to shoot her.
“Get back to work. You won’t get another warning,” he roars at her.
“I don’t want another warning,” she yells, “because I’m not going to go back to work. You can’t make me do this. I’m starving, and thirsty, and I’ve lost so much weight I can see my damned bones. I won’t do it. You can’t be allowed to get away with this.”
Artreau smiles and my heart stops beating for a second as he pushes the gun into her forehead. “I can, and I will.”
Then he pulls the trigger.
I open my mouth to scream but Rainer’s hand clasps around my face, stopping me. Those tears I swore I don’t shed, trickle down my cheeks. Blood and gore splatter and the poor, struggling boy on the ground behind her starts to cry. Artreau points the gun at his head, now. “Do you all see what happens to those who defy me?” he roars. “I told you once, and I’ll only repeat myself this one time. You’re here until your debts are paid off. The action of one is the action of the other. In this case, the actions of this girl will be the actions of her partner.”
He pulls the trigger and shoots the boy she was attached to. My knees buckle, but Rainer holds me up. I don’t know why he’s holding me up—probably so I don’t do something stupid and get him killed too. Artreau tucks his gun away, and his eyes scan over all of us. They fall on me, and fear seizes my chest. Is he going to kill me for crying? He doesn’t, instead he smiles and then says. “Now, you two,” he points to me and then to Rainer, and then he kicks one of the dead bodies in front of him. “Clean this up.”
If she can’t see me, then I can no longer be.
Her hair, her smile, she makes living worthwhile.
Through the darkness, through the light, her soul ignites.
When will you see me, broken angel? When will you shine your love?
When will you take my hands, and make breathing easier?
When will you understand I’m incomplete without you?
Broken angel, oh broken angel, let me fix your beauty,
Let me strengthen your soul; let me be the reason you never dissolve.
My eyes flutter closed as Tyke’s soft voice takes over my senses. His fingers in my hair, the warmth radiating from his leg to my cheek, his intoxicating smell—all of it wraps me in a blanket warmer than anything money could ever buy. My body sinks further and further, until a peaceful darkness takes over. It takes over before I can fully make out the last words he breathes, but in my dreams, those words are clear. “Sleep, my beautiful broken angel.”
I’m his broken angel.
I can only dream.
CHAPTER THREE
THEN – Pippa
I’m not hungry. I’ve gone beyond hungry. The angry twisting in my belly has disappeared as my body starts taking what’s left on my bones. My eyes are sinking, my hair is dull, and my hip and rib bones have started to protrude from my skin as ugly reminders of the life I’ve been handed. My body is numb; my mind has closed down. I’m living each day in the pure hope that one day I’ll see my sister again.
She’s the only reason I’m fighting.
“Stop moving forward!”
I jerk and turn my head to see Rainer behind me. He’s another slave, and he’s angry. I’m always paired with him, and it’s becoming harder and harder to deal with. He’s around twenty-four, maybe more, and even though he seems bitter, he’s a handsome man. He’s got dark, messy hair and the blackest eyes I’ve ever seen. His body is big, muscled and bronzed. He looks as if he’s worked hard in his life.
Growing impatient with my lack of direction, he shoves me forward and I stumble, unable to take a step, and fall face-first into the ground. The hard, scratchy dirt glides like tiny razor blades over my hands and face, and I cry out in pain.
My feet, which are bound together by chains and joined to Rainer’s, refuse to help me back up. I struggle up, coughing from the dry dust filling my lungs. I manage to slide to my knees and stand on wobbly legs. My face is bleeding—so are my knees and hands. My heart aches and I turn to stare at Rainer, who has ignored my fall and is tending to the tobacco crops.
He doesn’t care. And why should he? I’m nobody to him. I’m just a slave, no different to the rest. No more special. If I felt the urge to cry, I would do it, but crying is something I don’t often do. It gets me nowhere, and it wastes good, solid energy.
I lick my dry lips and get back to work, despite my broken skin. It hurts, but I don’t complain. Complaining only ensures I don’t get fed, and I can’t afford that.
“I can’t take it anymore!”
The screaming comes from my left, where a young girl, who only arrived two weeks ago, is dragging her partner across the lawn, stumbling, as he tries to inch closer to the house. She’s waving her hands, which are the only things that are free, and screaming at the top of her lungs. Artreau appears on the porch of the massive home and stares at her.
She doesn’t stop. She leads her partner, who is now crawling desperately behind her, legs bound together. She throws her hands up and yells, “You can’t do this; it’s barbaric. I’d rather die than spend the rest of my life as your slave.”
Artreau’s face pinches and he storms down the patio, reaching into his jacket. He pulls out a gun and everyone stops, each body no doubt doing the same as mine—going stone cold. He stalks towards her, pointing the gun at her head. She doesn’t stop, and I wonder if she wants him to shoot her.
“Get back to work. You won’t get another warning,” he roars at her.
“I don’t want another warning,” she yells, “because I’m not going to go back to work. You can’t make me do this. I’m starving, and thirsty, and I’ve lost so much weight I can see my damned bones. I won’t do it. You can’t be allowed to get away with this.”
Artreau smiles and my heart stops beating for a second as he pushes the gun into her forehead. “I can, and I will.”
Then he pulls the trigger.
I open my mouth to scream but Rainer’s hand clasps around my face, stopping me. Those tears I swore I don’t shed, trickle down my cheeks. Blood and gore splatter and the poor, struggling boy on the ground behind her starts to cry. Artreau points the gun at his head, now. “Do you all see what happens to those who defy me?” he roars. “I told you once, and I’ll only repeat myself this one time. You’re here until your debts are paid off. The action of one is the action of the other. In this case, the actions of this girl will be the actions of her partner.”
He pulls the trigger and shoots the boy she was attached to. My knees buckle, but Rainer holds me up. I don’t know why he’s holding me up—probably so I don’t do something stupid and get him killed too. Artreau tucks his gun away, and his eyes scan over all of us. They fall on me, and fear seizes my chest. Is he going to kill me for crying? He doesn’t, instead he smiles and then says. “Now, you two,” he points to me and then to Rainer, and then he kicks one of the dead bodies in front of him. “Clean this up.”
