As water filled my lungs and my vision blurred, I recalled my job. I hated it. It had always been boring. It was no one''s dream to work as the HR representative of a packaging company. Thinking about it now is quite tiresome, but I still couldn''t help thinking. It wasn''t that bad—at least compared to now.


    The hand that held my head in the wooden trough yanked my head back suddenly. Air filled my lungs, and I released a nasty cluster of coughs. Choking on the air. Spitting out as much of the murky, putrid water that had filled the trough from my system. Back home, my life may have been pointless, dreary, monotonous, but at least I wasn''t being drowned.


    I looked up at my captors. Their helmet faces stared back eerily. As I stared into the grates of their helmets, I looked for something, something human, but what stared back was as empty as the void, like staring down the edge of the abyss as it waits for you to jump. I turn my head away. They are a sickening sight.


    Their hands are upon me suddenly. Grabbing, twisting, pulling me to and fro. I feel like a toy being fought over by jackals, baring their teeth at one another. Their hands are sharp and thin. I can''t see them, but I feel them. Like touching a raw bone, cuts, scrapes, and scratches appear upon my body. They fight over me. There is an impersonality to it all. I am not there. This is not real. It is as if I am viewing myself through a dream. Thoughts are complex and incomprehensible. The motivations of these… creatures… Yes, that was the word for what they were. The motivations of these creatures were non-existent beings acting without thought or intention. My clothes rip and tear. Blood. Again, one pushes my head down in the trough. I exhale, letting go. Will this nightmare end?


    ***


    After hours of torture, I can only half recall as I am led to a cage. The moon hung high in the sky. The cold night air refuses to let go. Seeping its way into my bones, stiff, harsh, empty. They had taken me to a town. I''m unsure when we arrived; the world is a blur now. It moves around me in a haze. Calling it a cage is somewhat deceptive. It is more like a cell. A cellar with wooden steps leads to a dark room under a house. The only light source was the moon peeking through a single barred window. There were other figures in the room with me, shadows. I was in no state of mind to give them any thought. The creatures open the door and violently throw me in the cell. Slamming the door shut behind me. I lay on the stone floor sprawled out—no intention of getting up. Even if my muscles were not sore or my body was not screaming in pain, I''m not sure I had the will to anymore. This was nice in some odd way.


    I missed my bed. Its warm, welcoming embrace told me to forget my worries and that tomorrow would be better. To lose myself in its warmth. The stone floor''s embrace was cold and rough, but it whispered sweet solitude into my ears. Reprieve from these sadistic creatures. It was comforting, if only for now.


    I heard scuttling in the cell''s shadows, and the other occupants moved around. Part of me should have been concerned. I should have figured out who was in there with me. Am I safe? But I was beyond the point of concern. I was content with lying on the floor.


    "Rough, ain''t it?" A deep, rumbly voice asks me. I open my eyes and glance at where the figures lie in the corner of the room. I make no attempt to respond.


    "I know it''s tough, but you can''t despair. It''s what they want, " he says sympathetically. I can barely make out his outline from the shadows. He is a giant man that much I can tell, but something about his voice was calming. It was slow, deep, and soothing. I close my eyes again. I have resolved myself to solitude.


    I hear movement from the corner and then footsteps as he makes his way over to me. I open my eyes as he crouches down next to me. His skin seems a pale gray in the moonlight. His face is strange. His nose is squashed into his face, resembling more of a snout. He has two small tusks protruding from the edges of his mouth. He is bald and has no beard, but grooves in his chin remind me of a beard. He is muscular and gaunt with a thick neck. His eyes are kind, blue like a clear sky. His expression is soft, like that of a caring father.


    "I''m Som." He says to me, "I know it''s difficult. The crusaeders are rough, but you can''t lie like that. You can''t give up. That''s what they want." He flips me over onto my back and then sits me up. My muscles scream and tear as he does. I grimace and sharply inhale. I look at myself. Cuts, scrapes, bruises, blood… I''m a mess. My shirt is in shreds, but somehow still manages to stay on. I am missing my left shoe. The right leg of my pants is wholly gone.


    Tears well in my eyes. What is this? I can''t stop the tears from flowing down my cheek.


    "It''s alright, " he says as he continues to hold me up. Although his eyes are sorrowful, he maintains a sympathetic smile.


    He stays there for a while as I struggle and fail to compose myself.


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    "What is your name?" He asks eventually.


    Through tears, I manage to choke out, "Marcus."


    "Marcus?" he chuckles. That''s a peculiar name. Are you from around here?"


    "No… no, I''m not," I say, finally managing to contain the pain.


    "I can tell. You also look quite strange. What are you? I don''t think I''ve seen your kind before."


    I scrunch my face, surprised. He''s never seen a human before? I shouldn''t make any assumptions about this place. I have no idea of what is normal here and what is not. At that moment, I realized he was speaking English. I could understand him, unlike the creatures, and he could understand me. I decided against making a point of it. I don''t know how strange he already finds me, but regardless of the situation, it is best not to make myself stand out any more than I already do, even in a place like this.


    "Yeah, I''m a human." I tell him, "There probably aren''t many of us around these parts. What are you? You are also pretty foreign-looking to me."


    "I''m an orc." He says with a bit of pride.


    "An orc." I repeat with awe, "Were you some great warrior who these… crusaeders defeated in battle?" I believe he had called the creatures crusaeders.


    "Me? A warrior?" He lets out a low laugh, "Gods no. I was a mere farmer who happens to be unlucky."


    "A farmer?" I repeat with a chuckle. It''s crazy, but talking with him has made this place seem less miserable. The pain was slightly better. "Why did they capture… people like us?" I ask him.


    He pauses for a moment and tilts his head.


    "You''ve never seen a crusaeder before have you?" He asks curiously.


    "No, I haven''t," I admit. Damnit.


    "They feed off pain. The suffering sustains them." He tells me, "They''re keeping us as livestock."


    My eyes widened in shock. They feed off pain?


    "And you''re telling me not to fall to despair when we are only being kept to suffer?" I ask him, shocked.


    "Just because our position is bleak does not mean it is good to give up." He says sternly, "Just because the odds are bad is no reason to resign ourselves to this fate."


    "But there is nothing we can do." I ask him, "If they can capture someone as big as you, what hope do I have?"


    He looks at me with a grimace. He turns and stands up.


    "If that''s how you feel, so be it." He says he resigned. His sudden coldness shocks me. "Just don''t drag the rest of us down with your pessimism." He says as he walks back to the corner. I notice the other two figures who remained in the shadows this whole time. They are smaller. One sits against the wall, and the other lies curled on the floor.


    "Wait," I say. Standing up, grimacing through the pain. I take some steps forward, "I-I''m still in shock." I say desperately.


    He turns back and looks at me. His eyes gleamed with a tiny hope. I took another step forward and now can better see the other two figures. They are both women, I think. Both are skinny and malnourished. The one against the wall has a lemon-yellow skin tone with blue tiger stripes along her body. Her nose is small and pointed. She has large, pointy ears. Her eyes are big with blue irises. Her nails are jagged and pointed like claws. Her torso is also shorter than what I think would be of an average human, but not by much. Her hair is blue, like the stripes on her body. The left side of her face is burned badly. Her left eye is shut completely. She is strange but not as odd as the other woman.


    With a similar grey skin tone as Som and a snout and bald head, I assume she is also an orc. What is strange about her is her injuries. Som and the other woman had their share of scars and bruises, but this one was missing an arm. She didn''t have tusks like Som, but from the look of her, it seemed like they had been removed, and recently at that. There was a hole in her cheek about the size of my thumb. There is a large X scar across her back. She has a cut on her right arm that seems infected. I feel my heart seize a little at the sight of the two women. They are both so severely hurt and scared.


    This is why Som insisted on me having a positive outlook. These women were both hurting so much. To strip them of all hope along with their dignity would be terrible. To let them sulk. I feel sick.


    "This is Tori," Som says, gesturing at the orc woman on the ground, "and this is Yauku." He says as he sits down. The yellow-skinned woman leans on him as he does. Seeking comfort. Like a scared animal. She seems young. Maybe sixteen. If she were a human, I don''t know if it''s the same for whatever she is. I sit down on the ground close to them.


    "How long have all of you been here?" I ask.


    "I''ve been here a month, maybe a month and a half," Som says. He then points at Tori and says, "Tori has been here almost three weeks, and Yauku has been here two weeks."


    It has been such a short time, and they all look as if they have been trapped here for years. Yauku is quietly watching me. She seems timid and nervous, while Tori is motionless in her spot.


    "How does the day-to-day of this place go?" I ask


    "There is no real day-to-day. They pull us out randomly for… feeding and return us just as randomly. Some days, they bring in a rotting corpse for food. Every once in a while, they refill the water trough." Som says.


    "I see…" I say absently.


    "But I''m thinking of a way out of here," Som tells me.


    "Really, what is it?" I ask, hopeful.


    "I''m not sure yet, but I know it will be good when done."


    My heart sinks. It was hopeless. All we had to cling to were the dreams of the blissful and foolish, but still, hope might be enough to make this less miserable for some. I think as I look at Tori and Yauku.


    "I think you should get some rest," Som suddenly says. You''ve probably had a long day, and I promise tomorrow will probably not be any easier."


    How comforting.


    "Yeah," I say, wearily closing my eyes and lying back on the floor, "you''re probably right."


    As I lay on that cold stone floor, drifting deeper into my escape from this nightmarish reality. I think of my old life. All the stupid things I hated dealing with. Traffic. Family gatherings that always find a way to explode in your face. My nine-to-five. Spending weekends alone. All my old problems seem so small and insignificant in comparison. What I wouldn''t give to have them all back.