Tears dripped onto the dry earth.

  "Hey, you!" the guard barked, kicking Alison’s limp body on the ground. "Well... at least she lasted longer than the last one." He shrugged, grabbed her by the ankle, and dragged her out of the mine.

  Alison’s back scraped against the stony ground, her head bumping against the rocks. As he headed toward the dog cages, he felt a slight twitch from her ankle. He stopped and leaned over her head. A faint, shallow breath brushed against his beard.

  "Dammit, she’s still alive!" the guard ran back to the mine to tell his friend. "You won't believe it... she’s still breathing, haha!"

  "Impossible," the second guard laughed.

  Sasha heard what they said and let out a long, heavy sigh.

  "What do we do with her?" the first guard asked.

  "Why don't we put her in that room and see what happens?" the second suggested.

  "Perfect. I bet she lives and fetches me a cigar," the first replied.

  "Deal. If she dies, you’re the one bringing the cigar," the second nodded.

  The first guard dragged Alison and threw her into the solitary cell where she had previously spent three days. He locked the door.

  Alison’s body began to shiver before she let out a sharp, gasping breath, followed by wheezing and coughing. She didn’t move from her spot, barely able to open her eyes. Her chest rattled with every breath. She stared at the door; her lips were torn, and the wounds on her back had begun to fester.

  The sounds from outside felt like the buzzing of flies. A time passed that Alison felt was a year.

  Something shiny crawled on the floor. Alison noticed it and tracked it with her eyes. It approached her, twitching its antennae. With a slow, agonizing movement, Alison placed her hand over it and grabbed it. She felt its legs scratching against her worn, tattered skin.

  Alison shoved the cockroach into her mouth.

  She clamped down with her teeth. It burst, releasing a sticky fluid that filled her parched mouth. The liquid tasted acrid. Its jagged legs scratched her tongue. Alison bit again; the cockroach crunched once more. She swallowed. Its hard shells cut into her throat.

  Alison coughed and almost gagged, but she couldn't. A single tear escaped her eye as she felt her stomach and chest being crushed by shame. "What a piece of filth... I am."

  She remained lying on her back, waiting for whatever would come next.

  The door opened after what felt like centuries. "She's alive! Whoa!" the first guard shouted. The second guard pulled a fancy cigar from his pocket and handed it over.

  "Now what?" the second leaned against the doorframe.

  "I don't know," the first shrugged.

  "Why don't we ask the Master?" the second suggested.

  "Maybe, but he’s been busy. He hasn't left his mansion in days," the first replied. "What about that scruffy one?"

  "The scruffy one isn't here. If he were, we'd be the scruffy ones," the first joked.

  "How about the old woman? Let’s ask her. The Master trusts her," the second suggested again.

  "You're right."

  The guard grabbed Alison’s ankle again and pulled. Her head bounced against the ground, and her eyes gazed at distant stars that weren't really there. She lost consciousness again.

  The guard stopped at the kitchen entrance. He opened the door and dragged Alison inside. Mia, who was cleaning dishes, froze in her place. Her face, already pale, turned ghostly. Bertha looked at Alison, then at the guard.

  "What do we do with her?" the guard asked.

  "How did this happen?" Bertha’s eyes were fixed on him.

  "She was disobeying orders... we just wanted to discipline her," the second guard stammered.

  Bertha sighed. "I'll handle it. But what exactly did she do?"

  "She found a diamond and refused to hand it over. So, we decided to make her fill the tank."

  Bertha’s expression didn’t change, but her jaw tightened. "And did you find anything?"

  "No."

  "Did you see it with your own eyes?"

  "No."

  Bertha’s eyes narrowed. "Get out," she said in a steady, cold voice.

  The guard left Alison lying on the kitchen floor. Mia jumped from her spot and knelt before her, tears dripping onto Alison’s tattered shirt. Bertha approached Alison, leaned over, and examined her for a few moments. She brought water, carefully lifted Alison’s head, and poured it into her mouth.

  "Help me," she asked Mia. They carried her to a chair. Bertha brought a blue liquid, cleaned Alison’s wounds, and bandaged them. Alison sat there for hours before she could finally move.

  The day ended. Bertha gave a piece of bread to Mia and told her to give it to Alison. When the guards came, Bertha ordered them to carry Alison back to the shack. The guard grumbled and puffed his cheeks but obeyed.

  Back in the shack, Sasha wept by Alison’s head along with Mia. A faint groan, barely audible, escaped Alison’s lips. Mia stopped crying and leaned closer. Alison moved her eyes and stared at her. A tearful smile broke across Mia’s face. She pulled the bread from her clothes. Sasha supported Alison’s head.

  Mia broke the bread into small pieces and placed one in Alison’s mouth. A tiny bit of saliva moistened it. Alison pushed the piece toward her throat with her tongue; it passed through with agonizing slowness. The sound of her swallowing was clear in the silence. Mia fed her the rest, piece by piece.

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  Sasha lowered Alison’s head slowly. Mia brought a blanket and covered her, patting her head. "Sleep now." Alison watched Mia’s hand stroking her hair. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she drifted off. Mia noticed Sasha had no blanket left, so she invited her to sleep beside them. The three slept huddled together.

  Alison woke up before everyone else. She found Mia beside her, hugging her arm. She stared at the wall until the guards arrived and ordered the women to clean the mansion. Sasha supported Alison on her shoulder, walking slowly toward the mansion, with Mia holding Alison’s hand.

  Bertha ordered Alison and Mia to wash the dishes. Alison sat on a chair, drying and stacking the plates Mia washed. Mia coughed from time to time; she was thinner than the last time Alison saw her. Alison stared at Mia’s protruding bones but said nothing, continuing her work.

  Bertha entered and gave a spoonful of honey to Mia. Alison looked at her. Suddenly, Bertha decided there were too many dishes and she must help.

  "Do you really think I’m happy seeing you like this?" Bertha’s voice was broken, unlike anything Alison had heard before. "I am truly not a fan of what the Master has become. He was a kind boy once, but his father was greedy and stingy despite his wealth. The Master had to work and succeeded in trade, but since he started enslaving others, he became cold and cruel. I tried to advise him, but he wouldn't listen." A tear ran down the wrinkles of Bertha’s face.

  Alison stopped drying the plate in her hand. Mia sucked the honey spoon, her eyes wide as she looked at Bertha. Alison looked at the floor before resuming her work. Silence fell, and Alison followed Bertha with her eyes, unable to stop her eyebrow from twitching upward.

  Breakfast came. Alison ate slowly. When it was time for the mine, Alison sat in her place, pale and heavy-breathed. Bertha called her and Mia. Alison spent the rest of the morning in the kitchen, doing light tasks under Bertha’s supervision.

  In the shack, the three sat together. Mia was already asleep beside Alison. Alison gazed at the sleeping girl, slowly reached out her hand, and patted her hair. Her own lips felt weighted down by a heavy sadness.

  Sasha was also near. "I know him," Alison’s voice was raspy, barely intelligible.

  "What?" Sasha opened her eyes.

  "I... I know. It's the one with the l-long hair covering his r-right eye," Alison looked at Sasha.

  "Are you sure?" Sasha leaned in closer.

  "When I fell... he was smiling. A smile of v-v-victory."

  Dead silence filled the shack. Sasha froze, her eyes darting. "He was always close to the guards... we should have known..." Sasha couldn't finish her sentence.

  "We have to escape, Sasha," Alison looked at her, tears welling in her eyes. "We have to leave."

  "Fine, fine. You’re barely alive right now, and that bastard is lurking around us. How are we going to do it?" Sasha crossed her arms.

  "I don't know, but we really have to go. We’ll find a way," Alison’s grip tightened.

  "Oof" Sasha placed her hands on her hips, looking at Alison with a slight frown, her own eyes welling with tears. "Let’s just sleep. Maybe you’ll recover a bit, then we’ll think about it."

  Alison looked at her, lowered her head, and lay down. Sasha did the same. Alison thought to herself: She’s right. The monsters are still outside... we need a mass escape.

  Morning came. In the kitchen, Mia was washing dishes as usual, and Alison was drying. Mia was slowly withering away, and Alison noticed.

  "D-do you... do you want to h-hear the story of the C-cat and the W-wool?" Alison’s voice was low and hesitant. Mia turned, her eyes sparkling. "Of course!"

  Alison took a deep breath. "O-once, there was a cat living a happy life in G-grandma’s house. Grandma loved knitting. The cat was p-pregnant. One day, while playing with a ball of wool, she swallowed one b-by mistake. She was s-scared for her babies. When the day came... she gave birth to three b-beautiful kittens wearing w-woollen sweaters... The End."

  "Whoa... can you tell me more?" Mia asked, interrupted by a cough. Bertha entered, pulling a bottle of thick black liquid from her dress, and gave a spoonful to Mia. "Sorry for interrupting," she said before leaving.

  Alison told more stories. Night fell. Alison combed Mia’s hair with her fingers and told her about Harold and Mary while Sasha listened. Alison began to recover; she even carried Mia on her back, filling the shack with the sound of Mia’s laughter. But every day, Mia grew lighter, and her cough grew worse.

  They worked together every day, and Alison’s stories never stopped. Mia began sleeping in Alison’s lap because she couldn't bear the cold that was creeping in. Bertha provided the black liquid and honey daily.

  "She was a beautiful girl, she had a big wooden house with a fireplace and lots of food..." Alison narrated. A wet cough interrupted her. Crimson threads of saliva escaped Mia’s mouth. Alison stared with wide eyes and a furrowed brow, her mouth half-open in shock.

  "Don't worry, I think my throat is just scratched," Mia’s voice was raspy. Alison pulled her into a tight hug.

  As days passed, Mia became slower. One night, she could no longer move. Alison hid a piece of bread in her clothes and carried Mia toward the shack. She stared at one of the guards before handing Mia to Sasha and standing before him.

  "Hey, you! Move it!" the guard barked. "Oh, it's you. What do you want?"

  "I want a d-doctor," Alison replied.

  The guard let out a roaring laugh. Alison stared at him in silence.

  "Beg me a little," he smiled.

  Alison dropped to her knees. "I beg you, sir."

  "I assume you want it for that one," he pointed to Mia. "Fine. But you get no food tomorrow. Also, you must collect 10kg of coal before sunset, or you get no dinner."

  Alison nodded, rose, and followed Sasha. She told Mia stories and played with her until she fell asleep.

  The next day was a long hell. Alison made sure Mia was covered well and gave her the piece of bread before leaving. In the mine, Alison didn’t stop swinging the pickaxe until her hands cracked. Sasha worked frantically beside her, away from the eyes of the long-haired traitor, dumping her own collection into Alison’s bag.

  They collected the required amount. Alison dragged the heavy bag to the guards, begging with broken words: "I have f-fulfilled the condition." The guard laughed and kicked her. Sasha signaled for her to leave.

  At least she got some bread and cold soup, but Mia could no longer swallow. That night was the coldest in months. In the corner of the shack, they wrapped Mia in every piece of cloth they owned. As Mia lay in Alison's arms, her body felt parched and cold. With every exhale, a smell emerged—the scent of a carcass. A distinct smell that makes you feel every dead cell consumed by bacteria; a smell that chokes the nostrils.

  Mia’s face was pale. Her lips, once pink, were now a dull blue. Her skin felt like old parchment, ghostly pale with greyish veins showing through. Her voice was a rattle, as if her vocal cords had been shredded by an unseen blade. Mia’s cold, trembling hand touched Alison’s warm face; her nails were purple from lack of oxygen. The look in her eyes—like a glass doll’s eyes, dry and void of the spark Alison loved—forced a tear down Alison's cheek.

  "You never told me your name," Mia’s choked, rattling voice pierced Alison’s heart.

  "M-my name is A-alison," she whispered through her tears.

  "Beautiful name... Will you tell me about the girl who lives in the Sugar Forest?"

  "O-of course... In a f-forest where the trees are m-made of caramelized s-sugar and the grass is g-green licorice, there lived a girl with c-curly brown hair, just like yours." Alison touched Mia’s nose. "Her eyes were hazel. She lived in a c-chocolate shack and had a m-marshmallow rabbit." Alison’s stutter worsened as she continued. "One day, the W-wicked Crone wanted to d-destroy her house. She complained to the Sugar King. He gave her a w-wand." Alison took a deep breath, while Sasha’s tears fell to the floor. "He t-told her to s-strike the Wicked Crone with it."

  Mia’s lips began to form a smile. Alison finished the story in a low voice, her stutter fading. "And so she did. The Crone turned into a beautiful princess. A white horse came and carried the princess high into the sky until she vanished among the clouds. The girl returned home, made some Turkish Delight, and sat by the fireplace with her rabbit... The End."

  By the time the story finished, Sasha had fallen asleep. Mia’s eyes were closed.

  Sasha woke up with the first light of dawn. She found Alison in the same position, staring into the void, her eyes sunken. Sasha looked at Mia; the trembling had stopped. The body had begun to bloat slightly under the covers. The cold of the stone had completely claimed her limbs, and flies were already circling. The only strange thing was the faint smile resting on her blue lips.

  Alison didn't move. She didn't scream. She remained completely silent, feeling the coldness of the corpse in her arms.

  The smell of death filled the room. When it was time for work, a guard noticed the body and dragged it outside. Alison and Sasha walked toward the mansion to start their labor. In a cage nearby, Mia’s body was being eaten and toyed with by the dogs. Sasha covered her mouth in horror. Alison stared; though her face remained expressionless, her heart contracted in her chest, and her throat felt strangled.