She didn't know her purpose when it started. Didn't know why they'd been taken, or what they'd be subjected to. But she learned. She learned quick. Learned to do what they wanted, to obey. But even that didn't prepare her for this task.
"Simon Says, clap your hands."
The resulting noise was thunderous, the sound of flesh hitting flesh and the clanking of chains filling the air.
It was loud, too loud. She swore she would go deaf if it continued, but was too scared to stop clapping to cover her ears.
"Simon Says, stop." The man at the front called, and instantly the room fell silent. He smirked slightly, and said a simple, "Run."
A little girl, still new, ran as fast as she could, little bandaged feet shuffling in the dirt, trying not to trip as she ran forward in her shackles. At last she tripped and fell, face hitting the packed ground and possibly breaking her nose.
At the front of the room, the man grinned a little too wide, clapping his hands twice and says, almost sadly, "I didn't say Simon Says."
And the little girl screamed and screamed as they took her, a shriek straight out of the fires of purgatory.
The man smiled that too-wide smile once more, "Simon Says."