Key, Rebranding

General Summary

“I’ll take her.”
I looked up to see the receptionist, short and plump, eyeing me from just outside our stall. Standing next to him was an unfamiliar figure, clothed in a long, deep emerald, cloak. Shadows cascaded over his face as he motioned briefly in my direction. His hand appeared to be full of callouses, unlike previous customers. I couldn’t see his eyes, but remnants of a long past scar sat just beneath his chin. The receptionist feigned a smile and ushered the man away.
So this must be it. I’m finally being sold off. Should I be happy? That I finally get to leave this dump of a place? Or maybe, is it fear I should feel? That the outside world is much worse than the safety of these cells? All I could feel was apathy. Lack of interest, enthusiasm, or concern - the last “word of the day,” back in Edgerton .
I glanced around at the others around me. There were seven of us total. The youngest looked to be around eight years old. He came with blood covering half his face. The guards never bothered to wipe it off, so it ended up becoming matted into his hair. The newest addition came only days ago. The guards shoved him in and chucked a piece of stale bread at his head. Apparently it was his birthday and he had just turned twelve. They mocked him, laughing that it was the least they could do for his poor parents that had just sold off their only child.
Was I twelve yet? It’s hard to tell how much time has passed since arriving.
A guard walked up to our gate with keys clinking together in hand. After fumbling for a moment, he pushed one into the lock, turning until a click echoed against the walls. The door slowly screeched open, piercing our ears. Footsteps thudded as additional guards appeared, entering our chamber. They grabbed a hold of me, one on each side, dragging my body out of the cell. The others simply stood and watched. A guard shoved my head forward, and we continued down the hallway, toward the stairs. The sound of metal smacking metal rang behind me, as the gate was slammed shut.
A few flights of stairs later, we made it to the exit. I could feel the heat from the sun radiate through the iron door. Someone from outside swung it open, causing the light to spill in, burning my eyes. I winced, as the guards continued to push me along. Keeping my eyes shut tight, I allowed them to drag me blindly to my next destination.
“Sit.”
I was forcibly sat on a wooden bench. I could still feel the sun hitting my face. Slowly, I tried opening my eyes. Black spots danced across the landscape, as my eyes continued to adjust. I could hear the sounds of coal crackling from behind. A guard was standing just in front of me. Someone had handed him what looked to be a stamp made from metal along with some paperwork. He walked away while reading it, placing the stamp on a nearby table. My eyes, now fully adjusted, surveyed the area.
The building we had exited was a gray brick. Webs of vines wrapped around it, tiny pale flowers in bloom. They were muted, as if they were covered in a thin layer of ash. Actually, everything looked to be a grayish hue. The building was short and rectangular. No windows, just two iron doors. Aside from the plants and the guards, there were no signs of life. It was still and quiet, much like the inside of our cells. All that could be heard was the popping of the fire.
There was a frail, small boy sitting on the opposite side of the bench. I hadn’t noticed him until now. His hair was a sandy blonde. Light freckles covered his sickly pale face. He must have only been five or six. I had never seen kids that were so young at this place. They were always at least eight or so. The boy continued to keep his eyes closed. Probably for the best.
“Congrats kids. You new master just payed.” The guard from earlier had came back. He motioned for someone behind us. “Get them branded. He payed for their antidotes too.” He glanced at the boy next to me. “Go easy on that one. He looks like he’ll keel over any second now.”
“Yes sir.” the man behind us answered. I watched him grab the stamp-like metal from the table as the guard stood watching. He disappeared behind us again. After a minute or two of waiting, I suddenly felt hands wrap around my mouth. Something hot pierced my back, just below my neck. Pain seared through me, but all I could do was sit despondently. A putrid odor filled the air, the smell of my burning flesh.
I knew he had removed the metal from my skin, but the pain was still there. His hand slipped off my mouth. I stared at the ground, taking ragged breaths. From the corner of my eyes, I watched his hand cover the mouth of the little boy. I looked away.
He tossed the metal on the ground in front of us and poured water over it. It sizzled and hissed. This must have been the “branding” the guard had spoken of earlier. My back still on fire, he grabbed onto my arm. Syringe in hand, he pierced my skin, injecting whatever white liquid that was, into me. He did the same to the boy. Finally, they yanked us up and led us back inside the building. The man in the cloak and the receptionist were waiting. They exchanged words, but I couldn’t hear them. Everything had gone muffled since I had been injected.
They placed chains around our wrists and brought us back outside. The man in the cloak led us down a dirt path until we reached a main road. A black truck was parked off to the side, hidden by the foliage. He hoisted us up into the front seats and took off his cloak, wrapping it around us. He unlocked our chains and threw them in the back. Shutting the door, he got into the drivers seat and started the truck.
Suddenly I was overwhelmed with emotion. The sounds of the motor became clearer as my eyes became wet with tears. I felt pain, sadness, fear. Tears I hadn’t cried in years, streamed down my face.
“It’s the effects of the antidote.” The man said. He must have noticed me crying. “It brings back your feelings.”
Images of my family back in Edgerton raced through my mind, along with the unrecognizable bodies that replaced them. My brothers, their soccer games, the neighborhood bonfire. My captors, dragging me around, dumping me at that gray bricked building. My tears turned to rivers, as my emotions continued to gush out. Audible wails escaped my lips until my voice ran sore.
“What’s your name?” he asked, handing me a tissue from inside his glovebox.
“K-Ki…” my voice rasped. I hadn’t spoken to anyone in years.
"Key, is it now? Well, I’m not sure what your circumstances are, but how’s about living with me for now on?”
The small hand of the little boy clasped over mine. He had been fast asleep the entire ride. A tear of mine rolled onto his cheek. I gently wiped it away and pulled him closer.
“Okay”

Character(s) interacted with

Key, Slave Master Jembé

Report Date

21 Mar 2019

Primary Location

Underground Slave Market