Chapter 2

Continues ringing in my ears was stingy and I swallowed apprehensively.

I threw the muddy dress aside and quickly wrapped my arms around me.

I felt violated.

Well, it was a good thing that I was physically a child. Many adults would not mind it unless he is a pervert.

But so far, I saw no perverted intention in his eyes.

I wondered if he would have to continue bathing me until my body was fully developed.

I shook my head frantically. I could feel the hairs on my neck rise.

That... I will not allow it to happen.

While I was busy overthinking, before I knew it, a cold bucket of water poured onto me.

I could not scream; he would punish me for sure. Let's just say, I'm getting used to coldness.

This bathing routine started two years ago. And two years ago, he insisted that I call him "Popa."

His name is funny; it matches one of his eyes, which seemed like it was about to "pop" out of his sockets.

My first impression; I was scared shitless, now all that's occupying my head are countless curses piling up for him.

Mentally judging this guy was the best alternative to keeping myself sane and in check.

It was not good to think so. However, by physically hurting innocents and his endless madness of afflicting children, he deserved every speck of insult. Apparently, I believe it is not enough.

But it was all I could do.

"Impressive, Jewel. Very impressive."

I fearfully glanced at him.

"You are the first person to have escaped here. Well, almost, to be precise. A child like you has a lot to offer, yes?"

Oh... you don't know sh*t.

It was what I could thought of as an answer.

"....."

Luckily, he let my silent answer go.

I took the soap that he threw at me while I was secretly glaring at him. I rubbed it vigorously on my body, trying to get the mud off.

Later, he seemed satisfied, he directly poured three buckets of water on me.

The cold makes me shiver nonstop.

"Dry yourself. Your dress and underwear are on your bed." He threw a towel at my face without warning, and I quickly patted myself dry while I continuously gave him a side eye.

He doesn't deserve to be pitied. All the children he exploited would agree with me, and with that, I was ninety-nine percent sure.

He left after closing the metal door and locking it secure this time.

This was the first time I ran away. He doesn't look pleased, and he doesn't look convinced either that I did it on my own.

But who does he think I would collude with? His mindless zombies? It seems unreasonable to believe so.

Now that I saw the bigger picture outside, it would take great strength and courage to escape this place one more time.

All I saw were dead black trees and muddy pathways that stretched miles from where I stood. I don't know if I would have survived out there either; the atmosphere screams "doom."

After wearing the dress he gave me, I hugged myself and curled back into bed.

I was sure I did not look healthy. My bones were protruding from my skin, and I was not growing any taller.

"Popa! No!"

I heard Ruby's cry next from my cell, which made me flinch instinctively. I knew he did something painful to her, forcefully extracting something from her body, like he always did to mine.

I wasn't the first child he caught and experimented with.

The first time I was dragged here, I saw the sign above my door. I was in cell 126. I heard a man's pained voice and constant growling; his voice echoed in the dark prison hallway. Sadly, the following days he went quiet. Only the children's cries were left heard in these eerie cells.

There were two others brought after me: Ruby and Saphire. Saphire was the last child he took. He talked about them sometimes when he wanted to strike up a conversation with me. I did not know his purpose for chattering since I was not a chatterbox like him. He should have hinted at it.

We produce precious materials, according to our name. The so-called "Popa" named us like we were precious things but never treated us as such.

We were only his possessions, a subject for his bizarre experiments and obsession with gems.

I didn't get a glimpse of other kids' faces because we are always in our cells, surrounded by concrete walls with only a small bed made of hay to spare.

The way we live is in comparison with pigs swatting on a cold, wet, dirty concrete floor.

Sometimes I wondered if he had lost his sense of smell because the stink of shit and piss was strong and he did not seem to be bothered by it.

Frankly, the cell was definitely a pig's den.

He pokes a lot of needles at us whenever he feels like it and njecting harmful substances that cause convulsions until I pass out.

I never knew about his other subjects' side effects from the chemicals, but I was certain that we had the same reaction.

.....

Many days had passed since I almost escaped from his grasp.

Every time he comes in, he always cuts my palm until I bleed a lot. He always expects to see gems form after.

I recalled the first time he did it; the satisfactory glee in his eyes was evident.

We were abused nonstop. Because of what I did, I think he was getting aggressive in his approach.

I always wonder what I did to deserved this kind of second chance in life because, the way I am living this, it is hell.

Before getting murdered that night, life was perfect for me. I vaguely remembered who my murderer was. If I could only turn back the time, I would have smothered him with his own blood and let him suffer till he died. 

I was one of the most famous architects nationwide. I lived a luxurious life in a well-known city. The view from my mansion overlooked the stunning nightlights of the city.

But in this second life I am having, all I got to see was my own sh*t surrounded by sad gray concrete walls and old-fashioned clothing such as this dull-colored dress I am wearing.

I was quite certain that things here were the same as in the 1800s. The building and other things looked outdated. except for Popa's instruments. They were made of modern things, such as his syringe, and they gave me doubts about his real existence.

I was only a kid, and the gods couldn't wait to make me suffer.

I was pondering, that I hadn't done horrible things in my past life. I donated my money to charities and did other good things; cussing or cursing at people was not common to me... unless provoked.

I prayed and hoped every night and every morning that I would survive and that I would escape this hell hole.

Alas... two years had passed, and still I was never saved. I was six years old when I was taken from my village. I had no knowledge of monsters or creatures since I was busy surviving hunger.

Still, I did not stop trying.

Since I had made a reckless move, he wanted to make me feel horrible for almost giving him a heart attack.

I curled into a ball and tried to ignore Saphire's screams.

I hoped that he would let me slide tonight. Just once...

Nevertheless, right then, the sound of the creaking metal door echoed. He had entered my cell.

I was about to close my eyes and sleep from exhaustion.

But I already knew what was to come. However, I pretended to be asleep.

"Oh, my dearest, Jewel," he sang after closing the metal door.

I never liked the way he spoke to me. It was creepy; the hairs on my neck arose.

I am aware my acting skills could not stop him. I gave up and quickly sat up, then ran to the other corner and trembled.

"Jewel, your sisters are already asleep; do your best not to scream." He was slowly closing the distance.

He was lying. I knew they weren't asleep; I could practically hear their sobs.

"Please, Popa. It hurts."   I started to whimper and made myself smaller than I possibly could.

He always takes me for a fool.

He makes me feel weak and stupid. I started to regret why I hadn't taken MMA training in my past life. It should have been useful by now.

"Shhh, no worries. I'm going to be gentle this time," he cooed.

His eyes were wide, and his gentle voice didn't suit his expression.

I did not believe him; not once; his words never matched his actions.

My frantic eyes searched his hands; he did not bring a knife or a syringe with him. This time, I wondered what he would do.

"No! No!" I tried to pry his hands away.

SMACK!

My face met the cold, wet floor as I painfully grunted. Before my consciousness would lose its hold, his big hands wrapped around my head.

His fingers started squeezing my eyebags, forcefully taking pieces of jewelry from my eyes.

I screamed from the excruciating pain. It felt like I was being sliced open. I had tried to push him away, but to no avail.

My hands instinctively covered my eyes, and I faced downward. The smell of metallic blood invaded my nostrils as I wept.

"Wonderful!" He shouted excitedly after getting what he wanted. He nonchalantly dropped me, and as my body could not hold my weight very well, my head collided on the wet floor with a thud.

Just like that...

His footsteps echoed, and darkness later consumed me and left me to sleep on my urine.