Blood and cold
He had awoken to chaos. Screams drowned his hearing, taking away the lethargy of a recently awoken mind.
Dank was the only word that could summarise the cell he occupied. The mold made his throat and lungs itch but this was a small price he had to pay.
Daniel was rocking in the corner of his cot, his usually damp locks pulled taut in between thin claw like hands. Scanning the area he noted his missing belongings, making his side of the room look void of life. He was to be shipped off then, another cellmate to the slaughter.
Harry avoided the mans opache eyes, fearful of what he might find inside that wretched gaze. Hopeleness. Resignation.
'Fuckk' he breathed out. The cold wracked his body and he held himself tightly.
No. The main priority was those screams. So he abandoned the pitiful teen to his own fate. Not a word of comfort or sympathy to be shared.
Inside these seedy walls there was always something going on. Murder. Rape. Suicide. Though the sheer noise of those screams was something entirely new. Screams werent uncommon here, but they were usually singular cries of agony and anger. Commotion was met with beatings and beatings was met with the guards attention, which is something he would avoid if he cared for his life.
When his bare feet met the stone floor, icy tendrils stabbed at his ankles as they groaned and croaked from the institutes chilling air. Dragging his body towards the hallway he caught sight of what appeared to be the source of the screams.
Guards lined the walls like oppressive gods looking down on the pitiful existence of their subjects. Large batons raised as they crushed down on the bovine bodies until blood was drawn. Cadavers lined the floor, palid skin contrasted with crimson. It was the brightest tone that this institue had to offer. Greys and blacks blended around them, making their minds tick and squirm, sending them all a bit barmy.
Harry recognized one of the fallen. Sam. A veteran for the resistance in the first war against the emperor. He was the respectable sort. Honourable and honest to a fault. But thats not what made Harrys eyes linger, distant as a scene played out infront of him.
He had just arrived at the institute, young and frayed. Bowbeaten at the new unfamiliar envirnomnet. Not one prisoner had ever helped him. They stole his cloths and food leaving him starved and frost biten. Desolate.
Yet amber eyes kindly offered him a loaf of bread, his own. Even though provisions in this sordid place was meagre at best.
Harry hadnt spoken to the man since, fearful and timid to be in debt to somone so notable and strong. Amber eyes stared up at him, all warmth now void and Harry asked himself why he never thanked this man.