Alison’s tears were on the verge of escaping, but in an instant, she heard a muffled chuckle. She turned toward the guard to find him wearing a smile that almost split his face; his eyes were filled with sick pleasure at the sight before him: Sasha, collapsed on her knees, with tears flooding from her eyes.

  Alison wiped the lingering tears away immediately, forcing her expression into neutrality despite the suffocating lump in her throat.

  "Hey, you! Get up!" the guard barked, kicking Sasha.

  She could barely stand. Sasha looked at the other slaves; none showed the reaction she expected or wanted. They didn’t stop, and they didn’t look back; they acted as if nothing had happened. In the mine, Sasha struck the stone with her hands, but her mind was elsewhere. Despite being surrounded by so many people, she felt as if the place were entirely empty of them.

  The guard paced the tunnel back and forth. Alison watched. He ventured deeper into the tunnel to monitor the others. Sasha stopped striking. She looked at the guard in the distance, then at her pickaxe. She raised the tool before her face, staring at its sharp edge.

  Alison moved to work beside her. Sasha pulled the pickaxe back, about to swing it toward her own head, but Alison caught it. Sasha stared at her.

  "Hey, you! Back to work!" the guard kicked Sasha’s foot. She nearly fell.

  Alison took a deep breath before opening her mouth. "L-l-listen, if you do it and s-succeed," Strike, "we will all be d-deprived of f-f-food." Strike. "As for y-you, you’ll be f-food for the d-dogs." Strike. "And if you f-fail, you’ll be f-f-flogged. You k-know the r-rest." Alison’s words were rapid and low.

  Alison let go of Sasha’s pickaxe and returned to work. Sasha stared at her tool for a moment before she, too, resumed; her strikes rang with a louder echo than all the others.

  The day passed like a bitter dream. Sasha sat in the shack, staring at the ceiling.

  "W-where is that girl who was with Sasha?" Mia asked—the one who hadn't noticed the dog cages.

  "She is d-dead... and m-maybe at p-peace," Alison replied.

  Mia leaned against the wall. "So, if we die, will we be at peace?"

  "Not n-necessarily," Alison turned to the opposite side.

  Sasha’s jaw tightened as she listened. She rose from her spot, marched toward Alison, and grabbed her by the throat.

  "Oh, really? You don't understand a single thing!" Sasha’s voice was raspy, tears streaming down.

  "I r-really don't understand anything, but at l-least I don't t-try to escape my r-r-reality," Alison said, looking directly into Sasha's eyes.

  Sasha screamed in Alison’s face—a low scream unheard by those outside. She threw a punch at Alison; Alison’s head barely moved. Sasha let her go. Alison watched as Sasha moved away, then she lay down again and closed her eyes.

  Sasha sat in the corner, sobbing with every breath, her hands over her eyes. She didn't sleep that night; Alison’s words repeated in her head.

  In the mine, Sasha stared at Alison then at the wall she was striking. Alison noticed. "W-w-what?"

  "Why?" Sasha asked.

  "W-w-why what?"

  Sasha swung the pickaxe with all her muscles against the wall, nearly dislocating her shoulder. "Don't play with me, you stutterer! Why did they kill her?"

  "M-m-maybe she d-did something," Alison said while she worked.

  "She did nothing! I was with her all day!" Sasha stopped, tears falling.

  "You want to be whipped?" the guard drew his lash. Sasha returned to work. The guard moved away.

  Alison took two deep breaths. "T-t-then there is another p-p-possibility." She paused, and just as Sasha was about to speak: "There is s-s-someone who enjoys seeing us s-s-suffer. L-likely one of u-u-us." Alison looked at Sasha out of the corner of her eye.

  Sasha went silent. "Who could it be... and why?" Her eyes scanned the room.

  "I d-d-don't know," Alison replied.

  Silence returned, punctuated only by the striking of pickaxes. The day passed. Sasha approached Alison, who had Mia by her side. "We have to find them."

  Alison looked at her. "And h-h-how?"

  "I don't know, that’s why I’m asking for your help," Sasha gestured.

  "H-h-hmmm. I'll th-think about it," Alison replied. Sasha returned to her spot and slept. Alison spent some time listening to Mia’s dreams before sleep overcame them.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Morning flowers bloomed in the forest. In the mine, Alison and Sasha’s eyes followed every small movement of the other slaves. Night bloomed.

  Mia sat near Alison, fidgeting in place. Alison raised an eyebrow. Mia smiled back, pulled something from her pocket, and reached toward her. "These are for you..." Small, crushed yellow flowers, scentless and starting to wilt.

  Alison stared at the flowers. Mia’s hands began to tremble, lowering. Alison took them without a word. Sasha watched, huddling her legs, her face hidden. Alison looked at the flowers, then at Mia, her mouth opening slightly.

  "Bertha let me pick them from behind the kitchen," Mia lay down. "Goodnight."

  Alison’s face softened. She carefully tucked the flowers into her pocket and lay on her side. She stared at the wooden door locked with chains before falling asleep. Sasha slept for only a few hours.

  Morning came, the routine repeated. This time, Alison managed to steal a small piece of wood. Whenever the guard wasn't looking, she carved it. The summer sun colonized the sky, turning the mine into an oven. The smell of sweat dominated. Alison never stopped watching the reactions of the slaves when someone was dragged for flogging. She noticed a small group who always relished the screams.

  One night, Alison pulled something from her hair. She placed a small wooden horse, no longer than 3cm, in Mia’s hand. Mia’s eyes sparkled; she was about to scream, but Alison covered her mouth.

  Mia hugged Alison, and this time, Alison patted her head. Sasha, as always, kept her eyes scanning every corner of the room.

  The next day in the mine, Alison noticed someone vanish for a brief moment before returning to their place. Moments later, the guard marched toward Alison, grabbing her by the hair. "Where is it!" he roared in her face.

  Alison didn’t answer. Sasha watched, her face turning ghostly pale.

  "So that's how it is," the guard muttered, searching her. He glared at her for a few beats, then dragged her by her hair toward the flogging room. The sound of her knees scraping against the dirt was drowned out by the rhythmic thudding of pickaxes.

  He hung her up, locked the door, and drew his lash. He struck. Alison didn't scream this time either, nor did she bite her lip. The whip tore into her back, though not deep enough to satisfy him. The guard began to pant; he pulled up a chair. "Where is it?" he asked through heavy breaths.

  Alison tried to speak, but he cut her off. "Don't play this game with me!" He stood up again and delivered ten more lashes to her back. He threw open the shackles, and Alison slumped to the floor.

  The guard pressed his boot onto her mangled back. "Where did you hide the gem?"

  "L-l-l-l—" Alison tried to defend herself, but her tongue remained snagged on a single letter.

  He grabbed her by the hair, dragged her outside, and tied her to a wooden post under the scorching sun. She sweated, and the salt seeped into the raw gasps of her wounds. She remained there until the sun vanished, her lips shriveled and dry. When the guard finally released the bindings, she fell flat on her face.

  "Don't think this is over," he said, kicking her.

  Alison crawled back to the shack, dust settling into her open wounds. Mia was sitting in her usual corner, tears staining her face. As Alison reached the door, Sasha pulled her inside. Mia rushed to her side just as the guard slammed the door shut.

  Mia pulled out a hidden piece of cloth and began cleaning the wounds. Sasha watched, tears welling in her eyes, but Alison was already unconscious. The door creaked open again; the guard entered with a water skin. He grabbed Alison’s head, forced her mouth open, and poured the water in. She swallowed in an involuntary reflex. He emptied the entire skin into her mouth before letting her head drop hard against the floor and leaving.

  For a moment, Mia and Sasha stared at the door. Mia used the small amount of water that had spilled on the floor to dampen her cloth and returned to wiping Alison’s back. Sasha moved from her spot, tore her tattered blanket, and wrapped it around Alison. Mia fell asleep clutching Alison’s hand, while Sasha slept leaning against the wall beside them.

  When Alison finally opened her eyes, she found a water skin, a whole loaf of bread, and some chickpeas. She ate so desperately she nearly choked. She was in a different room—small and dark. She stood with difficulty and peered under the door; no one was there except a single guard. A day passed as she stared at the walls and the door, the smell of rot filling the air. She paced the room. A guard entered, placed food before her, and left. This went on for three days. Alison began to hear voices that weren't there.

  "Where is she?" Mia asked back in the shack.

  "I don't know," Sasha replied.

  "Unfortunately, you should have said goodbye to your friend," Anna’s voice was low, her eyes fixed on the floor.

  Sasha stood and walked over to Anna. "What do you mean?" Anna’s eyes were cold. Sasha’s hands began to shake; from that moment on, she slept only a few hours at a time, checking the dog cages every time she passed them. As for Mia, she began to grow pale, a cough took hold, and a rattle began to accompany her breaths. She rarely spoke anymore.

  Sunlight finally slipped under the door of the dark cell. The guard entered, dragged Alison out, and threw her by the well. "Draw the water," he said, his voice eerily calm.

  Alison stood, gripped the rope, and leaned back. She didn’t just use her arms; she threw the entire weight of her broken body to lift the bucket. She hauled it up and set it on the ground.

  "Take it there," the guard pointed to a tank twenty meters away. He followed her, his relaxed expression giving Alison chills. She emptied the bucket.

  The sun was just beginning its ascent. "Now, fill the whole tank," the guard smiled. Alison stared at the massive tank, then at him. He began to toy with his whip. She turned and went back to the well.

  Fill, carry, empty. Fill, carry, empty. The summer sun slowly cooked Alison’s mind. Her sweat dried only to be replaced by more. The guard watched from the shade, forbidding her from taking even a sip from the bucket. Back and forth she went. The sun moved sluggishly across the sky as her skin began to dry over her bones. By midday, the tank was only half full, but he wouldn't let her pause.

  Her back began to bleed again. By the time the sun reached its final quarter toward the horizon, Alison finally filled the tank. Her body gave way, collapsing to the earth as her vision blurred. The guard stood over her.

  "Too early for a rest," he said, dragging her back toward the mine.

  He threw her down by one of the pickaxes. Alison pushed herself up with her hands, knelt, and then stood leaning heavily against the wall. She grabbed the tool and dragged it toward the entrance. Sasha, working aimlessly nearby, spotted her and almost moved toward her, but the guard’s gaze froze her in place.

  Alison stood before the wall. Tears streamed down her face, her cheeks were tense, and her jaw was locked tight. Her face contorted into a wide, crooked smile. She raised the pickaxe, but before it could strike the stone, she hit the ground.

  Sasha’s pale face was covered in tears and snot. Alison’s heart contracted inside her chest, and the last thing she saw before the darkness took her was not Sasha’s face, but his smile.