He stood there, watching the girl's retreating figure. Though the man beside her intimidated him, he couldn't stop stealing glances at her. She was—she was the one he'd seen after so long. And no, she wasn't even that beautiful. But somehow, she still managed to draw his eyes.
Her face was tired, furrowed. Her eyes—sunken, probably swollen from endless crying. But of course, girls cried. Especially the sensitive ones. Especially when they were caught.
The soldier handed him a plate of rice, not caring who he was. In times of disarray, people blended together—no one stood out. No one could tell the difference between the old version of him and what he had become. Yet he still had the same charisma. He had once been popular in his family.
But the wheels turned.
Now everyone stood on the same level. Everyone was treated the same. Equally hated by the law.
It wasn't his fault he looked at her. It wasn't his fault he got a smack on the head from the soldier who was supposed to serve him food. But her face—so full of fear—stuck in his mind. He figured she was being taken for exile. He wondered what punishment they'd give her. His mind went to the worst, the most inhuman possibilities.
Later, he was told to join the group of boys in tattered clothes—his old friends. They still joked and laughed. It didn't feel much different from home, except now, the luxuries were gone. Beneath the grime, they were still the same boys.
But their jokes now? They were about death.
Death of someone they didn't even know.
Death of someone who might have been the cause of it all.
SCREAM.
A shrill, piercing one.
They all froze. It had to be the girl—the one who passed by earlier. But… why were they torturing her in the boys' chamber?
She must've done something terrible, one of the boys joked.
He didn't laugh. He had seen her eyes—puffy, frightened. But not wanting to stand out, he cracked a joke too. The boys burst into laughter. The soldiers hooted back, yelling at them to shut up.
But the boys kept laughing. Mocking. Testing.
Until one of the guards raised his gun.
That silenced them.
Oh, the boys—still young, still stupid. How could they not be themselves? Banter was in their blood.
Another scream.
This one deeper. Rawer.
Heart-wrenching.
She must've died this time. Surely.
And then—silence.
Just another death. Another scream swallowed in the bleakness.
Night fell. The march began.
The soldiers, in a rare act of humanity, allowed the boys to stroll in the garden. A shred of mercy, maybe. But he had something else on his mind.
Curiosity.
He wanted to pass the dungeon.
To see the girl. The one with fear in her eyes. To see her body, lifeless now. Maybe he was just tired of seeing the dead bodies of boys. Every day, another one gone—some from hunger, some from blood loss, others too fragile to survive the soldiers' beatings.
But this—this was different.
A girl.
A scream.
A face he couldn't forget.