Hexed Hearts - Becca Vincenza Page 0,1

the men. I wrapped my arms around my knobby knees, pulling them close to my protruding ribs. Tears ran down my cheeks and I wiped them against my dirt encrusted skin. But wiping the tears didn’t stop their flow. The bars of the cage against my concave stomach reminded me of the hunger that plagued me.

“Don’t cry,” a voice next to me said.

My head snapped up looking for the source of the voice. I hadn’t seen anyone else in the room before. I scooted away from it. I sniffled. Taming the animalistic sounds that tore from my throat was easier said than done. A boy with disheveled brown hair was sitting as close. He seemed too big for his own cage, but I knew I was small for my age so I guessed he was around the same age. I swallowed hard.

“There you go,” he smiled. “What’s your name?”

My eyes followed his movements, he fidgeted little.

“Mine’s Griffin, but you can call me Griff.”

He pushed his hand into my cage. It was just as dirty and bruised as my own. Some of the skin on the knuckles looked raw.

“Colette,” I answered timidly. I watched the hand like it was a snake ready to bite.

“Lettie. I like it. How old are you, Lettie?”

He watched me closely. His voice had the authority, like an adult, and made my shoulders tense. I took his hand, pumped it once, and retreated.

“T-ten,” I said.

“You haven’t shifted have you? In front of them? I know it’s tempting, but you can’t.”

My brow furrowed and I shook my head slowly. I didn’t understand what he meant by shift. The other men had yelled things I didn’t understand, something about shifting. Then they hit me. My muscles twitched to move into the familiar position of defeat.

“Colette, it’s important, you have –”

The door banged open, the sound echoing in the tall ceiling room. Limper looked at Griffin first, I followed Limper’s glaze back to Griffin who pulled back his top lip to snarl. He was now crouched in his cage, eyes never leaving the limping man for a moment. Limper moved ever so slightly closer to my cage. The snarling grew louder.

“Interesting,” he leered at me as he approached my cage, his focus unwavering. “Come on, doll. It’s your turn.”

I whimpered and pressed myself closer to the back of the cage, closer to Griffin. I wanted him to save me. I wanted him to protect me. Limper opened the cage, an ever growing smile spread across his face. He reached in. I looked back at Griffin my eyes pleaded with him.

“Stay strong, little Lettie,” he said. His eyes never left mine. Limper dragged me from the room. The only thing I left Griffin was the echo of my scream.

* * * *

“Crying doesn’t help,” Griffin said softly.

“Daddy use to say that after he hit me, too,” I said with a cringe.

I wasn’t supposed to talk about daddy. He was supposed to be our little secret. He told me I should never tell anyone that the foster families that took me in allowed daddy to see me. Or that I wasn’t living with the foster families, but with him and they collected the support money.

Griffin shifted in his cage and reached through the bars again to lightly touch my hair. I sighed. His touch was gentle and his smell was soothing. He smelled like the always the green trees close to daddy’s cabin, and cinnamon, too. I wasn’t afraid when I smelled that.

I was pulled from those thoughts when Griffin’s lips turned down and his eyes grew hard withdrew his hand.

“Whatever you do Lettie, do not shift.”

It was the same warning he gave me before and I opened my mouth to ask what he meant. The door opened, not with its familiar bang, but it still it sent a chill down my spine. I quaked unconsciously.

Limper and two others strode in. One was tall and lanky. He had ice blue eyes and an uneven smile. The second was short, bald, and his thin lips never moved from their permanent scowl. Blue eyes kicked Griffin’s cage, but he didn’t move. He kept his eyes on me as they came around to the front of my cage. I couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped. The men chuckled while Griffin growled. Limper’s nails bit into my delicate skin as he yanked me from the cage. I tripped over the lip and fell forward. I braced my hands against the floor. Blood welled at my palms.

“Please,