Disclaimer: I do not own Farid, he belongs to Cornelia Funke.
Farid had horrifying nightmares that night. Most of them were from the encounter earlier that day. This would happen whenever he recieved particularly harsh beatings. They scared him silly, awake and asleep. When he awoke, his lips quivering dangerously, he stared out into the black cloak of night that was draped over his eyes. He reached for his blanket and wrapped it tightly around his scrawny shoulders. The pain was coming back. It came in throbs and waves, causing him to crumple tightly into a ball. It was worse than he remembered. How had he managed to even crawl here, he didn't know. It was probably the adrenalin. The sheer terror that he'd get more beatings if he stayed there.
Farid sat up, leaning his torn back carefully against the cool stone. He hugged his knees to his chest, for he felt sick to his stomach from the pains. Soon, they became worse enough that he got sick all over the stone floor. Fortunatley, there was never much in his stomach. The theives enjoyed starving the boy, taunting him as they ate several times a day. He pressed his face into his blanket, thankful that there was no one around to hear his helpless whimpers. But soon those whimpers became tears. They streamed down the boys cheeks and he made no effort to wipe them away. Before he knew it, he was sobbing into the floor of the cave, gasping for breath. Farid's whole body shook from crying and he curled his trembling fingers tightly around the edges of the cloth he was clutching.
He wasn't sure how long this went on, but he realized he must have passed out, for suddenly it was daylight again. Farid felt dried teardrops all over his face. He knew the theives wouldn't expect him back for a couple of days. They didn't care where he spent his misery in the days following a beating. As long as he was suffering where they couldn't hear him, it was alright.
Farid pulled himself into a sitting position. He winced at the sight of one of his shins. It was gashed and bleeding, and would soon become infected if he didn't clean it with something. Slowly and very gingerly, Farid dragged himself towards the back of the cave, where a thin stream of water trickled by. Farid unwound his blue dusty turban from around his head and shook out his hair. His black banana curls fell into his face. Farid hated that turban, and he was always glad to take it off. He gently dipped it into the water and then wrapped his leg in it. After he tied the bandage on, he cupped his hands into the water and took a sip. It was warm, but amazingly refreshing. He splashed it onto his face, but as he bent over, his back sent shooting pains all around his body. Farid yelped and couldn't hold back the tears welling up in his big afraid eyes.
What am I going to do? he thought.