15

The dried tears. The lingering fowl scent. The devastating silence.

These three things were accompanying the little girl who slept on the cold concrete floor. It had been a few months since she had been living here in the basement. The little one had befriended all the tiny living creatures that stalked around the enclosed room.

The routine was repetitive. Slaps, kicks, belts. But she always had a smile on her face. A sweet angelic smile anyone could’ve had fallen for, even her kidnappers.

She had endured all of the pain, only for his precious father, thinking that if someday she’d meet him, she’ll be proud for saving her special human.

A bucket of cold water had been draped over her making her jolt up from her sleep. Her body shivered at the sudden contact. “Get up.” The man who she had named as Buff was standing infront of her. He was the kindest and quietest out all of them with bulging muscles---almost in his mid-twenties. He never kicked or slapped her unlike the other ones.