Warnings: References to rape. This is also not the very first chapter of this story, but due to the graphic nature of the chapter (detailed rape), I decided to leave it out. Just leave a comment about it in the review and I will direct you to the first chapter.
"Looks like the old pervert's got another one," a young, thirteen year old boy with pale skin, red hair, and blue eyes said, as he hopped down from the chair he had been using to peek out the open window above the door.
Seventeen-year-old Hugh rolled over onto his right side, before deciding to turn over onto his back. He was becoming too big for the small, standard issue cots that filled the depressingly small bedroom that all the boys between the ages of fourteen and seventeen were piled into.
From this position he could stare up at the dull eggshell colored ceiling, which had been painted a few weeks earlier to cover the stain that had resulted from blood seeping through the floor of an upstairs room. Apparently, one of the trainers had gone too far with one of the slaves, and the child, a young five-year-old girl, had been killed.
"Oh look, he looks just like a little girl!" the redhead continued, "From the looks of him he's a Doushe."
It was like this every day. A new child, lately most of them boys, would be sent here. The small room was already crowded enough. How were they supposed to make room for this new boy? Even the space on the floor was taken up. There were no closets in this room, so that meant all their clothes (all they were allowed to have were two dull gray uniforms) had to be packed away in a large trunk, which went from one end of the wall to the other.
The wooden bedroom door (which was always locked from the outside) came open with a few audible clicks as a key was turned in the lock. Then he appeared; the man that was feared and despised by most of the children unfortunate enough to be placed under his care.
Trenton Faggers. The man was fifty years old, but had the hormones and sexual appetite of a twenty year old. It was too bad that he was only attracted to children; like the scared, brown skinned boy that he was currently leading into the room. Anyone with half a brain cell could tell what the man had just done. The sick pervert had not even changed his pants, and there was a dark stain that stood out amongst the dark fabric.
"This boy is named Jessui" Trenton announced in a loud, booming voice.
This new boy, Jessui, barely looked thirteen years old. He barely looked like a "he" either. He was slender (which was probably from malnutrition), and had long, silvery white hair that reached pass his hips. He was the perfect type of prey for a man like Trenton; who preferred feminine little boys just as much as he preferred little girls.
"Jessui, huh? Funny name for a Doushe" the redhead from earlier called out, before falling silent when the man glared at him.
"What have you done to him, Trenton?" Hugh asked, the words sounding strange when spoken in his usual mild, Irish accent.
Hugh was not like the other boys in this place. He had come from the Old World, from a place called Ireland; which no longer existed in the Old World due to the numerous bombs that had destroyed nearly ninety percent of the land there; nor did it exist here in the New World either.
"Shut your mouth!" Trenton snarled, "Since you are so concerned for him, I'll leave you to tend to his injuries. No one else is allowed to touch this boy! If they do, you will be sent to the punishment room!"
The man then turned and stomped out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him. There were the soft, audible clicks, which could be heard, as the door was locked from the outside. The poor boy was left standing there with a very confused and disorientated look on his face. Jessui probably had no idea where he even was, or he was too in shock to register anything.
However, Trenton's threat of being sent to the punishment room kept the other boys from helping him. The room used for punishment was directly over top theirs, and every night the screams and pleas of disobedient children could be heard. The guards punished the children at night so that the other children would be able to hear them.
"Geez, aren't you going to help him out, Hugh?" a blond haired boy lying in the cot next to Hugh whispered, and to add to it, he jabbed him hard in the side with his finger.
Since Hugh was the oldest, the other boys looked up to him. Which could become a real problem at times, since that meant they expected him to be an "older brother" figure to them. What would they do when he turned eighteen and was shipped off to an adult slave house? Who would they depend on then? It would be better if they could learn to rely on themselves, but who was he to dictate to any of them?
With a heavy sigh, Hugh swung his legs over the cot, before pushing up to his feet. There was a loud scrape as the cot was moved to the side because of his movements; but Hugh had learned how to balance himself so that the sudden move did not throw him off balance.
When Hugh walked over to the boy, he was surprised; he had never seen a Doushe before. He had heard about them often enough, but he had never been able to meet one. From what he had heard, Doushe were powerful beings with mystic powers. They were also ever hardly seen outside of the forest. So what was this boy doing here? How had he been captured? Was it because of the boy's mixed heritage? Most Doushe had very dark brown skin, but those of mixed blood had skin that was various shades of brown. This boy's skin was mocha colored, meaning that he was of mixed blood.
"Are you hurt?" Hugh asked, reaching forward to touch the boy, but he stopped when he saw the boy flinch. "You've been raped, haven't you?"
The younger boy refused to answer, but Hugh did not need him to. He had seen that look thousands of times, and once, it had been mirrored in his own eyes. It was something that the boy was going to have to deal with; the same way all the children here had learned to deal with it. Soon training would follow, and if this boy could not cope, then he would be raped repeatedly until he was too broken to care any longer.
"Come on," Hugh said, gripping Jessui's wrist gently, before leading him to his cot. "I want you to lay down on your stomach, okay?"
The boy hesitated, before lying down on the cot. Hugh could see his tiny frame shaking, but he could not feel any remorse or pity for the boy. If he started feeling those emotions, he would not be able to do what needed to be done. When he pulled the boy's pants down to his ankles, Jessui began to cry.
"Quiet down. I am not going to hurt you" Hugh said, before instructing the boy to part his ass cheeks for him. "Don't be embarrassed. We all had to go through this. You will feel much worse if you end up becoming sick. The doctors in this place aren't nice people."
There was a small amount of dried up blood around the boy's hole, but nothing serious enough to call a doctor for. Trenton had been careful this time, which made Hugh suspicious. The last time Trenton had acted carefully was because he was not supposed to touch the child that had been placed under his care. Because of Trenton's lack of self-control, the child had been killed because they were not "pure" enough to suit their master's taste.
"Is he hurt Hugh?" a thirteen-year-old boy with blue hair asked, while peering down over Hugh's shoulder.
"No, he is fine. Trenton did not go too hard on him," Hugh said, before noticing the predatory look in some of the older boy's eyes.
It was not uncommon for some of the older boys to rape the younger boys. When raised in this type of environment, it was not surprising that some of the children would begin to mimic the adults that were around him. Even he gave into the urge to force some of the younger boys, but he never gave into the urge to rape them. He preferred seduction and threatening to anything physical.
"You can pull your pants up now," Hugh said, watching as Jessui pulled his pants back up quickly.
For some reason, Hugh felt responsible for the boy. The same way he felt responsible for all the younger boys here. In the Old World, there had been laws against this, but for some reason the New World lacked morals and common sense. Sometimes Hugh wished that he could forget too.
"Hey, Marquis! Let Tori share your bunk" Hugh said, instructing Tori to go sleep in Marquis's cot. Tori and Marquise were both young and skinny, so they would be able to fit comfortably on the cot. "Jessui, you're going to sleep in Tori's cot, alright?"
When Jessui moved over to the cot on the left side of Hugh's bed, the older boy sat back down on his own. He turned over onto his left side so that he could watch the boy. Jessui really was pretty, and the mocha-colored skin made him look exotic, like some prince from an exotic island in the Caribbean.
"My name is Hugh. If you need some help dealing with this, you can talk to me, okay?" Hugh said, before reaching over and placing his hand on the boy's shoulder.
He was not surprised to see that Jessui was crying. Most of the children cried on their first night here. Sometimes, they never stopped crying. All Hugh could do for the younger boy was stroke his hair, before pulling the cot closer to his, so that the younger boy would be closer to him.
There was a stirring in the pit of his belly each time he looked at the weeping boy, but he suppressed that urge, for now. Jessui had already been raped once today; only a real creep would hurt the boy again so soon.
"Try getting some sleep, alright? Tomorrow morning, people will be coming to view us for purchase. Maybe if you are lucky, you'll get purchased by someone nice" Hugh said, letting his fingertips glide over the boy's shoulder.
The words were pretty, as was the idea, but it was a very false hope. The people who would purchase them would be no better than Trenton was. Hugh had been a slave once before, so he was speaking from experience. The only reason he was here was because he had been too wild for his master to handle. There was never a master who was kind to his slave. They only existed in fairytales.
Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Review and let me know what you think; constructive criticisms, and even flames, are welcome.