Author's Note: If you don't know what's going on, go back to Episodes and check out the previous Ghost Talent chapters. 

CHAPTER 4

Kurt woke up groggy and generally in pain. “Ugh... I’m too old to sleep on the floor,” he moaned and rolled over onto his back, blinking open his eyes to find his Rrie’Kamara standing over him. She did not look amused in the least. Recalling what she had told him the day before, Kurt rolled onto his knees, hands pressed on the floor. He was thinking a little more clearly now, but needed coffee.

‘She probably doesn’t have any here.’

His subservient position was rewarded with something heavy but soft getting dumped on his head. “Clean self,” the woman stated. “Clean clothes.”

Struggling out from beneath the pile of bedding, Kurt glanced up at her – and got a face full of laundry. Dirty laundry. Pushing the laundry off, he sat back on his heels and sighed. “I can’t without soap,” he told her, looking up.

Immediately, she backhanded him, snapping his head to the side.

Frustrated, Kurt turned to his Talent, gently touching the Varas woman’s mind, “Soap,” he repeated, attempting to project the meaning directly into her mind.

Her hand lifted again, but paused, “Soap,” she repeated.

Kurt nodded, lifting his eyes to meet her gaze again, picking up a pair of her panties, “I need soap. For clothes.” He made an effort to speak slowly and distinctly. Her gasp of the Terran language wasn’t very solid. He gestured at the dishwasher, “I need soap, for dishes. I need tools to fix the sink.”

‘I also need time to think about what the hell I’m going to do about all this.’

His eyes turned and he stared at the panties he was holding up. They were pink with a little red bow on the front. Kurt looked back at the Varas woman standing in front of him. ‘These... are HER panties?’

She punched him this time.

Landing back on his rear, Kurt stared up at her. She scowled at him, snatching her panties from his hand. “You clean!” she shouted, almost sounding helpless.

Though his mental link to her, Kurt felt her panic, almost like that of a little girl, terribly frightened that she would be punished for looking at dirty pictures or something else similarly considered taboo. Taking a breath and sighing, Kurt moved back to his knees and bowed his head, “Yes ma’am,” he said. He had no other choice but to do what she told him.

Huffing, she turned and stalked off, leaving him with a pile of clean bedding and dirty laundry. “Clean bedding, but where the hell am I supposed to sleep?” he wondered. “The second bedroom?”

Picking up the blankets, he headed towards the second bedroom and dumped the blankets there. As he arranged them, he discovered clean clothes folded in the blankets, a razor, and a few other items for personal grooming. She apparently disliked long finer nails, too, since she had given him trimmers. “Man... can’t take these on an airplane, but the Varas hands em out like candy.” Kurt shook his head. “So... I got picked up by the OCD Varas.” Not that she actually qualified as a true, textbook case of OCD. Regardless, Kurt needed to find new bandages for after his shower. He vaguely recalled seeing something that might have been a first aid kit somewhere in the bathroom. The day before was a blur as far as he could remember.

Taking the toiletries to the bathroom, Kurt began hunting around for the medkit and finally found it in the cupboard behind the bathroom mirror. “Yep. Broken nose,” Kurt mused as he caught a look at his face. Dark bruises were forming around his eyes. He looked like a bandit. He also needed to shave.

Collecting some clean clothes from his pile back in the bedroom, Kurt realized with a sinking feeling that somehow, his Rrie’Kamara had picked some of the clothes he had originally packed, and one shirt Marie had given him. The shirt was hideous, in Kurt’s opinion. It said in large letters on the front, “I’m with the pretty one!” with an arrow. Her matching shirt had said, “The Pretty One.”

Kurt wadded the shirt up and took it to the kitchen to turn into cleaning rags later. Returning to the bedroom, he collected his chosen clothes and stepped into the bathroom for a much-needed shower.

**

Rathios sighed as she sat at her desk, perusing her files of available males of slightly lower or equivalent Status to her. None of them looked particularly interesting. In fact, they all looked marginally ugly. A majority of them had ragged scars on their faces, or other facial features that weren’t very attractive. One after another was rejected due to small flaws in their dress and hygiene.

Frustrated, she turned her attention lower, only to find more of the same.

Sitting forward, she put her elbows on the desk and rubbed her eyes, shoving her fingers into her hair. “Oh, this is useless! I’m just going to have to lower my standards... It’s not like I’m marrying them!”

‘No, not marrying them, but you’re still acquiescing to their pawing all over you.’

Firmly, she told the little niggling voice to shut up.

“Talking to yourself? Not a good sign, Rathios.”

Looking up, she frowned at Rameeds. “What do you want?”

Smirking, he leaned against the doorframe. “Seems like you’re having a bit of trouble,” he mused, “The Perro told you to get pregnant, didn’t she?” Rathios didn’t bother answering. He apparently hadn’t been expecting one, since he continued without prompting, “Why bother with any of those guys,” he gestured at her computer screen, which he couldn’t see any of the files she had open. “After all, I’m here, I’m willing. I’ve been trying to catch your attention for a while now.”

“While ditching your duties,” Rathios pointed out. “I don’t want even the possibility of that type of attitude breeding true in my offspring.”

Rameeds flipped his hand dismissively, “Fah! Rathios – your dedication greatly exceeds any flaws of that sort I might be carrying.”

She shook her head, “Evidence suggests that to be untrue. Given how often you’re here during your work shift.”

“Details!” Rameeds insisted, “Minor ones. Seriously. What’s so wrong with me that you consistently reject me?”

Her lips turned downwards. For a long moment, she pondered not answering, then finally stood. “Your scar first of all. You also have a very sloppy appearance; you smell, your uniform is always wrinkled and stained somewhere. Have you ever seen yourself eat?” she demanded, “It’s disgusting! You drop food everywhere like some kind of animal gorging. I’m surprised you don’t lick it off the floor!”

Rameeds stared at her, shock quickly turning to rage as he listened to her list. “Are you initiating warannade?” he growled.

“No. You asked a question, I’m answering it.”

Rathios abruptly realized her mistake as he stepped fully into her office and slapped the button to close and lock the door behind him.

**

Clean, shaved, and re-bandaged, Kurt sorted the laundry and tossed the whites into the washer before deciding to take a chance and step outside his Rrie’Kamara’s apartment. The hall outside was empty and he meandered down it at his own pace. The hall abruptly ended with a lift, and pressing the button, Kurt called it.

The lift whined and squealed loudly as it came up the shaft, then halted. The doors opened, revealing that the lift had stopped a good two feet off its mark. Crouching, Kurt looked in, finding the lift empty. Nervously, he crouched and dropped in. Looking up, he spotted that he was in the Red Zone, which probably stood for residential. Down a level was the green zone. He pressed a button for that area. It took a moment for the lift to decide it wanted to close the doors. Unfortunately, that occurred after it had started moving. Kurt stuck to the back wall.

‘Maybe trusting myself to this thing wasn’t such a great idea?’

For the life of him, he couldn’t recall if this was the lift that his Rrie’Kamara had brought him up in or not. But in the end, he was already committed.

The lift did not stop on the level he had chosen. It went down two more before stopping in the Blue zone. Again, it stopped two feet below its proper destination. Climbing out carefully, Kurt looked around.

This hall was full of people, mostly Varas. Glancing around quickly, Kurt decided to lower his eyes and walk slightly hunched. He still towered over the Varas by at least a foot, but avoiding their gazes seemed the best option to keep out of trouble. Carefully, he headed off down the hall. Unfortunately, he had no idea where he was going, but he figured that there would be a public terminal somewhere around that would give a general map of the station.

It was a hope, anyway... feeble as it was. He reached an intersection unmolested and lifted his eyes to glance both ways. More Varas were in these halls, they seemed to be workers, for they wore a different uniform. It was unmistakably the black fatigues that the Federation marines wore when not in their greens or dress uniforms. Now that Kurt thought of it, his Rrie’Kamara had been wearing the Navy Greens. Did that denote something? He wasn’t sure but suspected it was.

A shout startled him and Kurt turned – and abruptly get a fist in the stomach. Doubling over, he tried to catch his breath as a fist slammed into the back of his head, knocking him to his knees. The shouting continued, and desperate to understand, Kurt carefully touched the Varas man’s mind.

Images flashed past too fast for Kurt to make much sense of them – a boiler, something about the broken lift Kurt had used. The word Rrie’Kamara was used several times, but Kurt had no idea how to answer that question.

For his silence, he was kicked in the side hard enough to knock him over. If his ribs hadn’t been cracked before, they were now.

Perhaps wandering around hadn’t been such a great idea after all. If this kept up, Kurt was going to find himself dead fairly quickly. Forcing his hands down from his ribs, he bowed his head and projected an aura of the first thing that came to mind.

The Varas around him paused; looking down at him, then began to move onwards as they succumbed to his aura of apathy. Kurt stared at the floor, eyes wide. ‘I just broke my Oath so bad they won’t even bother to burn me out before they shot me dead!’ Remaining where he was for a moment longer, Kurt trembled as he staggered towards the wall and out of the path of traffic, still projecting the indifference. The Varas nearby correspondingly didn’t care that he was there and continued on their tasks.

‘I have to get out of here. I probably shouldn’t be on this level. I should just go back to Rrie’Kamara’s apartment.’

A hand dropped onto his shoulder and Kurt nearly leapt out of his skin. “Come with me.”

Turning, he stared down at the young woman. Before her features could register, she turned and started off through the crowd that obediently parted for them; courtesy of Kurt. The woman flashed a smile back at him, “I could get used to this,” she said. She had a nice voice. She led him down another hall and finally through a doorway, past a pile of crates, and finally into an area where three other humans sat huddled, chewing half-rotted food.

“You can stop that now,” the girl said, turning towards him.

Kurt blinked, then dropped the aura. The other humans in the area suddenly turned to look, as if startled to find him there. She had blonde hair, streaked with grease and bright brown eyes. It took Kurt a moment longer to recognize that beneath the grime, she was also quite pretty. “I’m Laura,” she held out her hand in the traditional palm-up style Psions had adopted. “You must be a pretty powerful Psion to have gotten them to back off.” She smiled, “I’m a grade seven.”

“Kurt Martley,” he replied and brushed his fingers against hers, “You can probably guess from there.”

Laura’s jaw dropped, eyes wide. “H-..hoo. Wow. Uhm.” She breathed and stepped back, then took a seat on one of the benches nearby. “Sorry... just... never thought I’d meet a Martley.”

Shrugging, he took a seat on the bench beside her. “Well, things happen. Can’t really predict them, I guess.” He snorted.

She shook her head again and looked up at him, “You must be new then.”

“You can tell?”

“You’re not starving.”

Kurt glanced at the others. They were staring at him with an intensity that was unmistakably jealousy. “Not yet, anyway,” he agreed sadly.

“What sector do you work in?” Laura asked.

“I, uh... red section, level five. I got hauled off by some short woman,” he held his hand up to just barely under five feet.

“Oh lucky,” Laura sighed, “personal slave.” She paused and frowned, “She’ll be mighty pissed when she finds you’ve wandered off. How’d you get down here?”

“Uhm. There was a lift. It didn’t stop on the floor I wanted.”

“Not the one that stops two feet down?”

He nodded.

“Wow. You really put your life in God’s hands on that one!”

Kurt swallowed, looking a little ill. “So you’re saying I should get back up there soon? Before she starts looking for me?” Laura nodded. “Well... I think I know a way to appease her anger, if I could get the supplies for it.”

“What do you need?” Laura asked, curious.

“A wrench and some spare parts to fix a sink,” Kurt shrugged.

Laura smiled, “Came to the right place then.”

Startled, he watched her hop to her feet and head over to a box, which she emptied onto the floor then refilled with some bits of this and that. “Sorry to ...seem rude... but in a situation like this, I don’t quite understand why you’d help me.”

“Because you, dear Kurt Martley, might be the key to getting us out of here!” Laura said cheerfully. The other humans in the area perked up, looking at him, then at Laura. She turned and cocked her head with a cheerful smile, “Considering that you already broke your Oath to save your own life... Would it be so difficult to do it to save a couple thousand?”

Kurt stared at her, “Back in the hall... If I die here, no one will ever know. But if I save everyone...” his shoulders sank as her expression hardened, “No – Laura, I’m not saying no. I’m just pointing out that I doubt the Federation would see my breaking the Oath as anything other than breaking the Oath, regardless of why I did it. To save my life or to save a thousand. I have to keep that in mind if I...”

‘Why am I agreeing? I don’t even have a plan, I don’t know if I can do it.’

Laura stared at him. “Quit quibbling,” she stated firmly, eyes quite cold now. “I can’t make you do it, but you’re our best hope. You’re our only hope. I don’t want to die here. I’m going to do everything I can to prevent it.”

Silently, he chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Give me a bit of time to come up with a plan,” he sighed finally. “It’s also going to take a lot of coordination.”

Her shoulders eased and smile returned. Striding over to him, she dropped the box of sink-parts on the bench beside him, then leaned in to kiss him firmly on the mouth. “Thank you,” she said. “Now, I’ll show you how to get out of here safely.”

Mildly bewildered, Kurt picked up his box of parts and followed Laura back out and down several halls that were much less crowded to another lift that worked much better than the first one. He then had to backtrack to the broken lift in order to relocate his owner’s apartment. Laura followed him in, glancing around, “Wow. Very clean.”

“Yeah, watch the boot prints,” Kurt said absently. “She gave me first aid just because she didn’t want blood on the floor. She’d have a cow if she found her carpet smudged.”

“Got your work cut out for you, huh?” Laura replied, looking around.

“I actually like cleaning.”

She followed him to the bathroom, her eyes wide at the sight of the bucket under the sink. “Wait!” she yelped, “Don’t pour that out!”

Kurt paused then looked at her. “They don’t give you water down there either?” She stared up at him with large eyes. Without a second thought, he handed her the bucket.

“Thank you,” she whispered reverently and took a few gulps from the bucket before lowering it again. “I’d better get back downstairs. I’ll send someone from this floor over to give you an orientation on where all the gathering points are.” Her eyes lowered. “It’s not that we’re not organized. It’s... we just can’t fight them. They’re too fast. Too strong. We haven’t got the weapons.”

“Then don’t fight them with weapons,” Kurt said with a nod, “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

She smiled again, “I’ll see you around.” Cheerfully, Laura left, careful not to slosh her bucket of water as she went.

Sighing, Kurt got to work under the sink.

“What have I signed up for?”

AN: if you've got no idea what's going on, hop over into the Episodes section and look for the other chapters of this story. 

Ghost Talent: Chapter 3

Kurt staggered blindly down the hall and careened off a doorframe as the Varas woman leading him went through it. Dizzy, he collapsed to the floor as the door shut behind him. The tiny woman stared down at him with obvious disgust as his nose dripped blood. All he could do was stare at her in confusion. Had she saved him? Or was the worst yet to come?

Dropping his chain, the woman turned and stalked from her living room. Absently, Kurt looked down at the blood and dabbed at it with his sleeve, realizing slowly that his nose was undoubtedly broken. A moment later, the woman returned. Before he could even flinch, she had grabbed his chin and nose in her hands. Stars exploded in his head. It took him a moment afterwards to realize that she had shoved gauze into his nostrils. As he recovered from that, a wet rag scrubbed roughly across his features. She completed the first aid by winding gauze around his head and tied a knot over the cut there.

“You call me Rrie'Kamara,” she informed him, grasping his chin firmly to make sure he was paying attention. “You slave. Do what I say. You clean.” She gestured around the room, “Everything. Clean! You be clean,” she picked at his clothes, then his hair, “Stay clean! Always!”

‘Oh thank god. Something I love doing anyway!’

Suddenly, she shoved him down, “You down to me.”

Confused, Kurt tried to lift his head to get some visual clues, but was shoved down once again, “Down!” the woman shouted. “Always down!” When he didn’t struggle this time, she let him go and stepped back, muttering under her breath in Varas. “You no run.” She added, “You die when run. I kill you.”

‘So if I try to run away, she’ll find me and kill me... Not that there’s likely anywhere to run to on this piece of junk.’

Apparently finished with her orientation on slave life, his Rrie’Kamara stated, “You clean now.” With that, she turned and stalked off further into her apartment.

Slowly lifting his head, Kurt glanced around and took in his surroundings. The place was spotless for the most part, except for the fact that it was falling apart. The walls were painted primer gray and chipping, rust had taken over in spots, the light fixture overhead was cracked and several bulbs out. There were a multitude of other issues and only the absolute neatness of the place prevented it from looking like a dump. Kurt wouldn’t have lived in an apartment like this if he’d been paid.

Staggering to his feet, ribs hurting and gut bruised, he carefully headed further into the apartment, locating the kitchen, the bathroom, an empty bedroom, and what was likely his Rrie’Kamara’s room, the door firmly shut. Taking a closer look at the bathroom, Kurt discovered that the sink was leaking, a bucket beneath full and dripping water across the floor. If he’d had the tools he could have fixed the sink, but for now, he emptied the bucket and put it back beneath the drip before finding a towel to clean the water with. Too dizzy to bend over again, he pushed the towel around with his foot.

The washing machine and drier were in a corner in the kitchen, obviously unused, though in working condition and lacking soap. Sighing, he dropped the wet towel into the washer. “What the hell am I supposed to do if she’s only got half the stuff I need to fix anything?”

Carefully moving over to the sink, Kurt began looking under it for tools, soap, whatever he could find. On his knees, reaching beneath the sink, he paused, staring at the floor. “What... am I doing? I should try to find a way out of here... I should...” Closing his eyes tightly, he leaned his forehead against the edge of the counter. “Maybe I can just figure this all out tomorrow? She’s obviously not going to kill me tonight. One day... and I’ll be able to think.”

When his hunt under the sink only turned up dish soap for hand-washing, Kurt returned the bottle to its proper place and closed the cupboard. Making his way around the kitchen, he located where everything was, then put everything back neatly. Emptying the bucket under the bathroom sink again, Kurt finally collapsed on the kitchen floor, since his bandages were soaked and he couldn’t find new ones. His Rrie’Kamara seemed intent on keeping everything clean, it was probably best that he bleed somewhere that was easy to wipe up.

**

Rathios stayed in her room the rest of the evening, listening to the sound of someone moving around outside her door. It was highly distracting, but she grit her teeth and put up with it. “Orders are orders and if this keeps me from looking strange, then... ugh. It sounds like he’s making a mess out there!”

Resisting the urge to go check on her slave, she pressed herself firmly into her seat on her bed. Turning her attention back to the glossy printed papers she held, Rathios attempted to make out what the words meant. While she couldn’t read the human language very well, she had still learned many things; such as thirteen ways to better abs. Unfortunately, the thirteen ways all seemed an awful lot alike and she got a better workout doing her regular kata and practice in the mornings precisely one hour before her shift.

Flipping the page, Rathios tipped her head as she squinted at the picture. The woman in the picture had long curly hair and the red dress she wore was practically a second skin. Pouting her lips, Rathios tried on the woman’s expression, then glanced up to check the mirror across the room. While she had duplicated the expression perfectly, Rathios decided it didn’t look much like the picture. Her prominent cheekbones weren’t as high, her lips weren’t as full, her eyes were bright, but only appeared so because of the darkness of her skin. Her hair was flat and hung around her face in precisely the correct hairstyle that reflected her Status, though it was marginally mussed from lying against the pillow behind her.

She heaved a sigh, “I’m just tormenting myself.” Setting the papers aside, Rathios went to her bedroom door, and stopped to listen for a moment.

Abruptly leaning back from the door, Rathios frowned as she realized, “I’m sneaking around!” Throwing the door open, she looked up and down the hall. Her slave was not in the hall, though it only took a moment for her to find him. He was passed out on the floor in the kitchen, bandages soaked through but not dripping on the floor. However, given that the floor was linoleum, if he had dripped, it wouldn’t have been difficult to clean up. How considerate.

“Ugh. He’s turning colors,” she muttered, eyeing his face, “And getting hairy.”

A moment more and she came to the distasteful conclusion, “I’m going to have to get clothes for it to wear too.”

Making sure her bedroom door was shut, Rathios headed out to go acquire the supplies her slave would need to follow her orders to keep himself clean. According to her papers, a Warp3 was required for the closest shave. She already had one for her excess body hair and liked it well enough. Finding another wouldn’t be too difficult, as she often had to get new razor blades. Grabbing her shopping bag from the drawer of the table near the front door, Rathios stepped outside, looping the bag’s straps over her shoulder.

It wasn’t an impressive bag. She made sure it was regulation bland to keep others from noticing it. However, it was a useful bag for hiding inappropriate items in when she went to pick up things for her apartment. Minding her own business, Rathios easily dodged through the throng of Varas and slaves in the station’s halls, heading towards the junk bay, where all the things from inside the ships Varas raided were taken.

The route to the junk bay was down several levels and towards the back of the ship. It was mildly inconvenient, but not a difficult trek for anyone except for those of higher Status. However, those of higher Status simply sent others to do this kind of thing for them. Rathios might eventually be able to send her slave, but for now, he was going to be utterly useless. Reaching the bay, she found a fair amount of others picking through the piles of things that were haphazardly scattered around the bay.

Rathios frowned mildly, but this was how they always kept the place. She slipped the bag off her shoulder and waded into the mess.

**

Marie’s breath came in ragged gasps as she curled in a corner. This was as far away from the multitude of Varas children as she could get. In the center of the room, there was a brutal fight, with limbs flailing, hair pulling, biting, and scratching. Part of Marie wanted to wade in and tell them to stop – that fighting was bad – but... they were Varas and obviously not afraid to use knives on each other.

She had been forced to watch helplessly as Kurt was singled out and beaten before getting dragged off by a Varas woman. For what, she didn’t know, but it bothered her that a woman had taken him. “He’s my husband. How dare she take him!”

Kurt had looked nearly dead when the heathens stopped and then he had actually gotten up and followed the woman. “Stupid Kurt!” she whispered, “Stupid man! Doesn’t he know? Doesn’t he care that I’m in danger? He should be tearing through this place to find me!” Tears stung her eyes as she pulled her knees closer, arms wrapped tightly around them. “He doesn’t love me. Daddy told me about how much Kurt was going to love me, but Kurt doesn’t love me! Not like Daddy did!”

A sob snuck free and she hiccupped loudly. The noise drew attention from one of the Varas children sitting some distance from the fight, watching. The blank stare the boy gave her chilled her to the bones and she pressed herself even more firmly into the corner.

They hadn’t really said anything to her – well, nothing that she was able to understand. They had simply hauled her by her hair and thrown her into this large room that appeared to be some kind of communal crib. “M-maybe...” Marie whispered, “I’m supposed to be their food?” the thought made her huddle closer upon herself. “I am very good looking. Daddy always tells me so. Mistaking me for food is understandable, I guess.” Shaking her head, she bit her lower lip briefly before remembering that doing so would chap it. “I don’t wanna be food though!” This time, she couldn’t stop herself from wailing.

In the middle of the room, the fight had apparently finished with one of the Varas children either dead or severely beaten. Either way, he wasn’t moving. The children turned towards her, staring, all of them with their black faces and silver eyes, like panthers, ready to pounce on the little mouse in the corner. Marie stuffed a hand into her mouth and stared back at them, terrified.

One of the Varas boys said something. The others laughed and began advancing towards her. That was when the one that had been sitting near her stood. He said something. The others hesitated. The boy spoke again, and somehow the other children seemed to abruptly lose interest in destroying Marie.

“Maybe he’s king?” she whispered. “King of the children. Obviously he likes me, otherwise he wouldn’t have saved me!”

Emboldened by the boy’s actions, Marie slowly moved to her knees and crawled across the floor towards her savior. He turned to stare down at her, frightening silver eyes set in a baby’s face. He was adorable in a strange way. Marie smiled at him, “I’m Marie,” she placed her hand on her chest, “You?”

A fist slammed into her face, knocking her back on her rear, “Down!” the Varas boy shouted, “You down! Varas Rrie’Kamara! You clean!” he gestured around the room. “Clean,” he pointed at the infants in a small fenced off area on the other side of the room. Not that it wasn’t possible to simply step over the two-foot-tall baby fence, but it was enough to delineate space for the infants. Marie stared at the boy.

“I thought – I thought you liked me!” Marie whimpered, voice trailing upward into a squeak as tears started.

She missed seeing the highly annoyed expression that crossed the boy’s features before he grabbed her hair, using it to slam her face into the floor. “Down! Dumb animal!”

Sobbing, Marie flailed uselessly, slapping at his hand. His fingers closed tighter on her hair. Even for a child half her height, he was capable of keeping her pinned to the floor. Screaming louder, she tried to bat at the boy’s ankles. “Let me go! Don’t you know who I am? You’re not allowed to touch me! You’re not allowed!”

Still the boy did not let her up.

Patiently, he let her exhaust herself before releasing her hair. It only took ten minutes.

“You down,” he repeated, “No look at Rrie’Kamara.” He kicked the side of her head for good measure, then turned, walking off to another side of the room to kick one of the other children.

Sobbing, Marie remained where she was, ear ringing where she had been kicked. She firmly ignored the rising wail of the infants on the other side of the room.

“Someone save me,” she sniffled. “Kurt... please save me!”