Detaku/Dasara

"But you have to believe me!"

The door was slammed in her face. Again.

It was two months after they had released her, and her cuts were just starting to heal into scars. They had dumped her on the street in front of her sister's house, along with a sack filled with all the clothes and belongings that she had had with her when they had come.

She had gone from door to door up and down her street, begging, explaining her story to every one of them, telling them that they had to help her rescue her sister. But no one believed her, even when she showed them what was left of the cuts.

There was only one house left on her street. It was her last hope of saving her sister, for if the family here didn't believe her, she planned on just giving up and going home to pray that they returned her older sister alive. She walked up the steps to the last house and went to knock on the door. But before her fist could make contact with the door, it was opened by a tall, skinny boy with shoulder-length black hair, and slate grey eyes.

Dekatu sucked in a breath to begin her pleading story once again, but the boy held up a hand to silence her and stepped aside, motioning for her to come inside. Now, most people would be extremely cautious about walking into a stranger's home. But the way Dekatu looked at it, nothing could be worse than the torture she had been forced to endure in front of Dasara.

"I believe you," he said quietly; so quietly, in fact, that Dekatu was almost sure that she had misheard him.

"Pardon-moi?" she said, accidentally slipping into french; but he understood her. It wasn't uncommon to encounter someone who spoke french in her neighborhood, so it was good to know the basics.

"I believe you."

"Oh. Wait, you do?"

"Yes. Of course I believe you. Why wouldn't I? The evidence of your story is clear on your skin," he said, making a sweeping motion with his hand, pointing at the cuts.

"But why would you believe I had been tortured in place of my sister? I don't even know you."

"You may not know me," he said, "but I know you."

"As weird as that sounds to me, I don't really care at the moment. My real question now is will you help me save her?"

Dasara

"Are you done yet? Or is there yet more enjoyment to be had?"

Sendio sharply turned his head to look in my direction.

"Didn't we tell you to be silent?" he asked in a voice made of anger and frustration mixed with enjoyment at my pain and torture.

Mitch drew a small dagger from his belt and, with immense precision and force, threw it into my shoulder, burying it in the muscle and what was left of the skin.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say Mitch had meant for that to hurt me. But after all they had done to me in what had seemed like days, I wasn't sure if I was even going to survive long enough to begin to think about the possibility of being rescued.

Not that there was anyone to rescue me. Surely Detaku wouldn't attempt to. Not after what they had put her through. I was lucky they had gone for me as soon as they did. Detaku was only fifteen years old. Sure, I was eightteen, but I had grown up in the rougher parts of the city, whereas Detaku had grownup sheltered. I used to hang out with the guys; I had been in fights more than three times a week. I had to work a lot, and late on the weekends, so I could support me and Detaku. I couldn't afford to pay for Detaku to go to school, so I would go to school close by a few hours a day and come home to teach her before making her dinner and heading off to work.

Then another question weasled it's way into my barely consious mind; how was Detaku going to support herself if I wasn't working? Sure, we had enough food in storage to last her for about four or five months; she could probably stretch it to six or seven if she cut back. But she wasn't old enough to get a job yet, and I didn't know when I was going to be able to get back, let alone be in any condition to return to work. But the most I could do was hope she found a way to survive.

"Was that supposed to hurt?" I asked, knowing they couldn't do anything more to me.

I had to be kept alive for their master; though what their master wanted with me, I have no idea. But I was pretty sure I didn't want to know. Well, whatever it was, Sendio and Mitch seemed pretty happy about it.

"Does it really matter?" Sendio asked,

"No; not really," I replied.

"Then listen to us and be quiet," Mitch said.

"Why should I be quiet? It's not like there's much more for you to do to me without killing me. And we can't have that, can we?"

I was silent for a few seconds to see if they would have anything to say. They were silent.

"No reply? Well, then. Hey, how many nerves of mine and Detaku's do you think you destroyed?"

"You're lucky we can't kill you. Otherwise, you'd have been dead a long time ago."

"Oh, but where's the fun in that? In a few weeks, I'll be healed enough for you to carve me up again. If you kill me now, I won't heal. That would mean no more torture. Now how does that end well for you? Your master would be none too happy, the way I understand it."

I could almost see the anger rolling off of them in waves, and decided not to push my luck and closed my eyes, welcoming the numbing darkness that had been clouding the edges of my mind.