Chapter 4: Hooks and Splinters

Claire spent four years rotting in that cage, one meal and one cup of warm water a day, before it all got worse. Boredom was the killer then, as she, a child, had no toys or books. Nothing to fill the time. Fang was two years older than Claire, and so she was dragged out two years before she was. When they took her the first time, she screamed and cursed them, calling them 'faggots' and 'whoremongers.' Hours later the fiery Pulsian girl was returned and sobbed herself to sleep. Claire was terrified for the girl, and for herself. Day by day, the light in Fang's eyes began to fade. One day, Claire got up the courage to ask the other girl where they took her, and Fang replied venomously,

"Hell. They take me to Hell." Then she leaned back against the bars of her cage and tears poured down her face, in utter silence. Claire never asked her again. Two years later, though, she found out. And, in her opinion, hell had nothing on this place.

They came for Claire, and dragged her out of the room she had taken to thinking of as 'the stable,' and one of the two men backhanded her for resisting. Claire was able to cast a last fearful glance back at Fang, and saw the girl crouched in the cage, head lowered. Dragging her from the room, they lead her up some stairs and down some hallways. She would come to memorize and dread this route.

She was pulled into a room where a man sat on a cot, puffing on a cigar. He was fat, and bald. He cast a hungry look at her, and then he nodded to the men that had brought her. She was stripped of the clothes that she had been wearing, clothes that had long since shredded and frayed into rags. The man disrobed himself, and motioned for her to come closer. She hesitated, and recieved a smack upside the back of her head.

He had forced himself upon her then, beating her when she tried to get away, and using her in horrendous ways. At ten, she began the terrible routine that Fang had endured these past two years. The worst part was, she didn't understand. She didn't understand the man's grunting, or the filthy feeling that rose up in her torso like vomit. She didn't understand the sticky white stuff dripping out of her at the end. She didn't understand anything but the pain. That she understood, full well.

When it was finished, she was given back her rags. And then she was taken back to her cage, which took on a sudden, sick measure of safety. She, like Fang before her, wept herself to sleep, bruised and bloody. The next day she awoke slick with sweat from the nightmares she endured. She sat up and looked over at Fang, who was staring at her, a strange look in her eye. Pity? Guilt? Claire would wonder about this all day, even as they were both collected and dragged down that same hallway, but to seperate rooms, and to new 'clients,' as she heard them called.

By the end of the week, Claire was unbelievably sore, and had cried all of her tears out. Fang had been surprisingly silent, which was very unlike her. Fang was an outspoken girl, and had an uncanny ability to find humor in almost nothing at all. Claire was suffering, though, and Fang had no words to make it better. She couldn't even hold her friend, because they were in seperate cages.

The weeks turned into months, and Claire began to catalogue differences in the clients. Some were almost gentle, and some hurt her for no reason. She came back from one day with bruises forming all over her face and chest. Fang raged inside her cage, beating her own head against the bars and growling wordlessly.

"Fang..." Claire started.

"No!" Fang shouted. "You don't deserve this! You are a child, taken from her family, suffering rape and abuse every fucking day!" She lapsed again into a brooding silence.

"You don't deserve this either... No one does." Claire said in a small voice.

"Maybe." Fang snorted, flipping her wild hair over her shoulder. "But I'm an orphan. This cage is inside... No rain, no snow. I don't have to use myself as bait for Gorgonopsids, I don't have to fight tooth and nail for a meal. I might have traded what they want for this cage. But your family... I had something of a family. Another orphan, a little girl. She might die without me. You might die in here... Fuck, I might. But that doesn't mean anything to me. You and Vanille do, and I can't do anything! Not a fucking thing."

Claire didn't know what to say. She promised herself that evening that she would become more stoic. They could take what they wanted from her, but never again would they affect Fang like this using her. Fang was her only friend, and Claire would, even then, do anything for her. Not that she was able to do much, but she wouldn't add to the other girl's torture.

Every day dragged by, and Claire tried to smile. For Fang. They would talk every night until one of them fell asleep. Fang talked about Gran Pulse, and how rough it was. Every person there fought to survive. There was no help for orphans, and gangs of bullies were rampant. That's why Fang was so strong. She had defended Vanille since she found her cowering in an alley.

Claire would talk about their home in Bodhum, and her baby sister. Fang hung on every word, peering into the other girl's former life like pages in a book. Her father was a Guardian Corps peace officer, and Claire would recount his exaggerated tales of his days to Fang. Her mother was a nurse, which was why she's never been to a hospital or doctor. Fang had also never been to a hospital, but there was only one in the entirety of Gran Pulse. Most continued to give birth at home.

The two girls continued to survive, trying to keep each other alive. The sexual torture they endured never went away, but with each other to talk to, it seemed to become more... manageable.