Disclaimer: I do not own Farid, h belongs to Cornelia Funke
Farid's hands shook with terror. I knew i shouldn't have run away, I knew I'd get caught. And i barely even got half a mile! He stumled backwards, still retreating from the theif with the board and the whip. Farid fell into the dry desert sand and crawled away desperatly. He knew what was coming next; pain...and possibly even death. If the fear didn't kill him first, that is.
"Listen here boy!" he heard the man snarl. "You won't run away this time, you know why? Because after I put you through this hell, you won't even be able to move, you hear me?" the man barked down at the whimpering boy. There were already hot tears streaming down his terror stricken face. His bruises from the last beating were just begining to heal now, and he really wasn't looking forward to more.
Farid felt the first blow come to his back. He pressed his trembling hands firmly to his mouth, knowing that if he made the slightest sob, the beatings would only be done with more force. He felt shooting pains throughout his whole starved body. Farid curled himself into a ball, pulling his knees to his chest, hoping he'd feel less pain in that positon. But it was usless, absolutly usless as more blows came to him. He had to cry. He simply couldn't keep that inside anymore. "No, please stop! That hurts, it hurts! No-o-o-oh!" he sobbed into barren ground.
Farid screamed as the beating became more intense. The slashes, the blows, whips. The pain was so much for such a young boy to handle. After about a half hour, Farid pretended to go unconscious, whishing that he really was. Oh, how it hurt! The theif mangled him a little while longer, but then left, with a pleased smirk smacked upon his face. Farid didn't move until he was sure the man was far away.
Farid moaned and dragged himself into the shade. He began to inspect his wounds, but quickley shut his eyes, disliking the blood. He drew a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but his whole body was still trembling from the fear. It's okay, he told himself, the theives are gone now. You're still alive, Farid.
He nervously opened his eyes to find that he knew exactly where he was. Fresh hope came flowing into his thin body. His hiding place wasn't far from here at all. It was a cave he'd discovered back when he was eleven or twelve. He would hide there whenever he was introuble with the theives. Farid managed to bring himself to an unsteady standing position, but that was pretty much it. He collasped, sobbing, and had to crawl the rest of the way, tears pouring from his black eyes.
After what seemed like hours, Farid reached his cave, he threw himself down onto the cold stone. The cool temperature felt soothing on his wounds. Farid looked across the cave and reached for his blanket. He'd had that thing since he were a baby. It was his only posession. He clutched the soft material to his chest, sobbing into the fabric. There has to be something better than this, he thought, as he cried himself into an uneasy sleep, there has to be...
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Kemberlin
