No words could even begin to properly describe the life of a slave. To be reduced from the top of the food chain to nothing more than a simple item bought and sold in a store like a child's toy is something no one can truly grasp. Being stripped of any worldly possessions, friends, family, and even your own name is nothing to take lightly. Rights are just a cruel joke to those branded for slavery and freedom seems more painful than the wrong side of the master's whip. It's not just some world to be highlighted in the media's spot light for special segment or a section of the newspaper for a few days and then forgotten entirely. The business only festers and grows; slowly engulfing more and more innocent lives and condemning them to a life only worth dying. Those put on the market and sold to some eccentric noble are doomed to a life of desolation and sorrow, treated no better than a household tool. In the back of every imprisoned man's mind is the bright prospects of somehow breaking free of their bonds and disappearing beneath the horizon to live a life of their own, but no one who worked themselves to the bone day in and out was delusional enough to cling to such dreams. It was a sick and twisted world they lived in, but there's nothing someone as lowly as a piece of merchandise could do about it.
The sun beat heavily against their backs as the chains binding each slave to their designated space sliced deeply into unprotected ankles, wrists, and necks, sure to leave some horrible scarring behind in the long run. Those who had been working on the island longer had tougher skin which was accustomed to the brutality of endless back-breaking work, but the seasoned workers couldn't look down on new recruits; they could only pity them for being stuck in the same horrible situation.
There needn't be a reason for a slave to work or know what he was accomplishing through his blood and sweat so no one on this island was entirely sure what was being done as they excavated the area. The men cleared the land in the tropical heat, unable to take a break and forced to toil through soaring temperatures, burning their skin until it blistered and then still continuing their labor.
In the unforgiving heat of the sun was a certain blonde haired boy working alongside dozens of men all varying in age as they struggled to level the sandy ground. He had been brought over by boat some months ago, sold into slavery far before he could even remember. He was a strong worker, always completing jobs to the satisfaction of his masters, but being assigned to dig in the sands underneath the unrelenting heat for the fourth day in a row seemed to work to kid to his limits.
The boy fell to his knees, vision swimming and sounds cutting in and out of his ears as he desperately wished for something to drink before falling onto the sand beneath him. The clattering of his shackles would soon alert one of the guards to come over and force him to work again, but he didn't care. Maybe this time he'd get beaten so harshly that he'd never have to work again…?
Sure enough, in a matter of moments a rough hand was clasped painfully around his upper arm before his skinny frame was lifted into the air. Angry shouting came soon after but the boy didn't bother deciphering it, the man was obviously yelling insults and threats.
He felt pain in his gut and on his cheek, telltale sensations of being struck by the brute, but he ignored them and chose to lay with his face in the sand as he felt the falling sensation of unconsciousness taking over.
More shouting came to his ears, but this time it was different. The noise wasn't like that of the burly overseers that systematically beat the enslaved men, but of a young man probably in his mid teens. The kid turned his head and tried to focus on where the voice was coming from, but he only managed to make out an unknown shorter shape standing next to the large blob who was probably responsible for the throbbing in his stomach and face. More words were exchanged but the kid was too spent to understand any of it. Suddenly, another blob appeared in his line of sight, stopping in front of the two shapes before rapidly approaching him. He expected to be hit again by any of the three standing over him and beaten until he could no long feel anything, but instead the boy was propped up in the stranger's arms as something cool and wet was brought to his lips. The slave boy instantly knew what it was and greedily drank the water, gulping it down until he could no longer breathe.
The bucket was taken from his grasp before he could finish it and he was left sitting on the ground. The water carrier departed and the kid could clearly see the two others leaving as well. The taller was one of the more short-tempered overseers with a muscular build and a whip attached to his belt. The smaller was a boy who looked to be a little taller than the slave and was dressed from head to toe in freshly pressed and expensive looking clothes. The boy stared at the retreating figure, instantly realizing that the shorter stranger must be the son of a noble.
It was surprising to see one of those leeches out and about amongst the slaves but nothing could compare to the anger of having been taken pity of by one of those disgusting gluttons. If it weren't for the chains restraining him, the slave boy would gladly be right in front of the nobility with his calloused fingers wrapped around the other guy's neck.