Little Girl Lost.

021.

"Harris."

I knew his name sounded familiar, but no matter how many times I turned it over and over in my head - I couldn't attach any meaning to it. It was like those moments when you're searching aimlessly for that word at the back of your head. You know what it means, you know where it's from and what it's used for but you can't get the syllables to just roll off your tongue. I could have sworn that there was something else to this Harris, but I couldn't get it out of the crevices of my head.

Maybe it was the exhaustion or lack of proper nutrition. My head seemed to be filled with a heavy, gray fog all the time lately, I couldn't focus on much of anything other than the monotonous, mundane routine I dragged myself through every day. The spaces in my head were gray, my skin was turning gray, everything was fading into gray - it was a wonder I had any emotion left at all.

The name and half-scarred face continued to bounce around like a stray ping-pong ball for hours. Scouring pots and pans in the kitchen and cleaning counters fell to the steady rhythm of those two syllables echoing over and over.

A clamorous clatter of metal pots and trays tumbling off a nearby counter broke the silence and everyone in the room jolted. One of the newer girls in the back gasped in surprise. I wiped sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand, still clutching the dingy and wet green and yellow scouring sponge as I looked towards the cacophony.

A guard was standing next to the heap, leaning his elbow on the counter as a grin stretched across his face- smiling like a mischievous, obnoxious child.

"Looks like you missed a spot, huh?" He chuckled, glancing down at the floor.

"Looks more like you have something you need to clean up." I mumbled under my breath, turning back to the pan I had been scouring so intently moments before.

I remembered when my concentration was set on uneven bars and vault runways and not washing dishes. My heart twinged and I pushed the memory back down where it belonged.

"That's cute." He laughed, "Pick it up."

I suddenly realized how quiet the kitchen had become. I glanced to the right out of the corner of my eyes, the other girls were all staring at the scene beginning to play out in front of them. The new one was pressed into the back corner, visibly shaking. She looked as if she would burst into tears at any minute.

I paused. I could feel my angry rebellion beginning to rise under the cracked exterior. I was tired and my patience was worn thin. I wasn't in the mood to put up with the bullying, the taunting and humiliation. I could hear Tracey's warnings whispering in the recesses of my ears but I ignored the cautionary reminder and pushed them away.

"No."

His face darkened and he stepped forward, pulling himself up to his full height. He was taller when he wasn't leaning on the cold counter and I instinctively stepped back- an action that wasn't lost on him I was sure.

"I've heard that you like to give your superiors trouble and you know, I just had to come see for myself." He shook his head, almost mockingly, and smirked.

"I'm sorry, I'll pick it up," One of the others stepped forward, trying to sound nonchalant but her voice noticeably cracked and I could see her knees nearly knocking together in fear.

"No!" He shouted, pointing at her to step back, "She'll pick it up."

She looked relieved.

"Why should I pick up something that you did? Do you want me to wipe your ass for you too? Or is that elected to your Mommy?" I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest.

In one quick movement, he had grabbed my neck in one hand and slammed my head down on the nearest counter. My ears buzzed and pressure pounded at the sides of my head.

"You. You need to learn how to listen to what you're told." He hissed in my ear, tightening his fingers around my throat.

I gritted my teeth, defiance surging too strong to care about the mess I was in. I wanted to get loose and kick his teeth in, destroy him like they were destroying me. I wanted to make them hurt, to make them scream, to make them emaciated with gray skin and thinning hair, see how they felt when they were humiliated and abused. My chest swelled at the thought.

"You, come here," He called to one of the girls cowering against one of the back walls, snapping his fingers for her to come to him, "Turn that on."

I squirmed, trying to see what he was gesturing to but he just pushed down harder. Black dots began to dance across my vision, it was getting harder to breathe and the pressure in my head was getting worse.

"You can't fuck with everyone in here, you stupid bitch." He hissed in my ear before his grip moved from my neck to my hair, grabbing a fistful and using it to drag me across the room.

The room was silent save for the occasional shuffle coming from the back of the kitchen. I thought I could hear someone crying, probably the new girl.

"Maybe this will teach you how to listen."

I felt the heat of the electric stove burner close to my skin and I screamed.

"You crazy fucki-" I started, but he cut me off.

"Next time, listen to what you're told."

He shoved the side of my head onto the burner in one swift movement and I screamed again, the back of my throat felt like it was being torn open by my voice alone. I reached out desperately clawing at air trying to catch the side of his face or his neck or anything to break his grip and tear him off of me. The smell of burning flesh and hair filled the air, all I could feel was pain. Everything felt like it was on fire. It lasted seconds but I swore it felt like hours. The side of my face was throbbing and searing pain had taken over all of my nerves.

He pushed me back from the stove, ripping skin from skin and sticking to the hot burner. I fell to the floor, clutching my ear and continuing to scream. My chest heaved and I could feel the sour bile rising in my throat.

"Your friend Harris says hello, by the way." He leaned down and sneered, mockingly patting me on my arm.

My mouth hung open but I couldn't find any words, I couldn't think at all. I just stared at him as he strolled out of the room, his black boots confidently thudding against the cold floor. He was proud of himself and proud of what he did.

"Harris."

I rolled over on my side with another heave, throwing up the meager contents of my stomach - what I had eaten for breakfast that morning. The acid only made my throat burn more and I continued to sob there on the floor.

Vomit, burned skin and singed hair were not pleasant smells and mixed together they were even worse. Everything around me spun and reeled as my head and ear continued to throb. The pounding in my head was growing with every passing moment and I feared I would throw up again.

"You're so stupid." I thought to myself, before it was swept away into the swirling panic that was drumming in my head.

After a few more minutes, that felt like hours, of laying on the floor- I slowly pulled my shaking body off the floor and into a bent-over sitting position, using the counter behind me for support. My hand was still pressed to the side of my head, over my ear. I was scared to see what the damage was, even though I didn't know how I would be able to any time soon. There were no mirrors in any nearby vicinity.

I lifted my gaze and looked up at the group of people who had just gone back to their work, like nothing had even happened. I panted; in anger, in confusion, in shock. I didn't know what I was feeling, all my emotions just bled together.

"You're not even going to help me?" I tried to shout, but it came out as more of a croak. My throat still burned and I coughed, accentuating the throbbing in my head.

One of the girls glanced at me, the one who tried to pick up the pans and trays that had lay on the floor. I glanced over at the counter. They were still there, untouched and unmoved.

"I was hoping you'd take the hint."

"W-what? What the hell are you even.."

"You're always starting problems, just let things be. You wouldn't be half missing a ear now.." She was refusing to look at me, eyes dead locked on the counter that she was scrubbing down instead. Her sentence trailed to an end and she wrung out more dingy water onto the surface.

"Th-this is not my f-fault!" My chest shook and I struggled to hold back more sobs, trying to not seem even more weak than I already was.

She only shrugged her shoulders. Nobody else in the room was speaking, or even looking at me.

Tremulously, I attempted to pull myself off the floor - having only one arm to support myself against the cold counter. Tears felt like needles pricking at the back of my eyes- threatening to break the minuscule amount of composure I was somewhat holding onto. I trudged towards the door, the room spinning around me didn't make it easy and I stumbled more than a few times.

"Are you going to pick that up?" The same girl called after me as I came within a few steps of the door.

I turned towards her, disgusted with her question, "Y-You have to be kidding me." I stammered.

"..Can you at least clean the stove then?"

I just stared at her, almost wondering if she was trying to make some sort of sick joke out of the situation.

"Go fuck yourself."

I swayed slightly as I tottered out of the kitchen and out into the dimly lit cafeteria. The lights were never turned on during the work day, not that I minded now. I hoped no stray guards patrolling by would notice that I was collapsed at one of the tables- sobbing and shaking like the pathetic mess I was. I just wanted to be left alone.

I wondered if Rodney was thinking about me. I wondered if anyone was thinking about me. That was just another moment that left me feeling incredibly small, insignificant and completely unimportant. But then, maybe it was better if everyone forgot about me, if everyone had forgotten about me.

My thoughts led me back to that name.
"Harris."

And to what he had said.
"This isn't over. I'm going to make you so sorry."

So was that that? Was that little saga over- had he had his revenge now? Or was I just in for even more?

The thought made everything feel so much more heavy and I rested my head against the table, the side with the scorched ear facing up towards the dark ceiling. I wished I could just sleep for a few days or weeks- get a break from everything that was in here and the mess I was stuck in. Everything else momentarily paled in comparison at the thought.