Tracy kicked me with his boot so that I could stare at the stars... and then ruined the view with his face. I hit him with my best laser death glare. He held his flashlight towards his chin, and his big nose flared like an enraged bull’s nose. I focused on his big-gapped mustache to avoid his scowl but he superglued his eyes to mine. Oh no.

I tried looking away. I didn’t want him in my head.

“Hold her face,” Tracy barked at the nearest guard.

Shaun untied his shirt from around his waist and wrapped it around me, keeping his hands from touching my skin directly. I knew Shaun. He wasn’t a power-hungry psychopath like Tracy. He always turned the other way when Tracy was on his malicious streak.

Even as he gripped my face and held me down, I understood he was just doing his job. Just trying to avoid Tracy's wrath. I wasn’t going to plead with Shaun with my eyes. Instead, I kept my steely gaze on Tracy.

Look fierce, Saya. Show him you’re not prey.

Shaun tried stopping Tracy before. That just got the prisoner and himself beat up even more. I was determined to keep my thoughts to myself, lest my friends suffer even more punishing humiliation.

Tracy dropped the flashlight, grabbed my sleeve carefully and crouched on my chest with a grin, faking a calm and collected demeanor. I could smell his sweat overpowering the same ivory soap we had in our prison. At least before our soap ran out. I was surprised he stomached my prison stench and got this close.

“Making quite the noise tonight,” he paused, scanning the area. Some prisoners must have come out to see the commotion.

Tracy clapped three times for attention. “Showtime’s over. Billy, corral them back inside. Zap anyone who wants to linger.”

Quick as he could whistle with his gapped teeth, Tracy held out his stun gun. Billy, even quicker, came over to grab it with a reassuring, sinister grin. You couldn’t trust Billy with his own. Not after what happened to Wanda.

Tracy turned to me, stroking the edge of his over-parted mustache. “Now, as I was saying. What in the blue blazes were you up to in the dead of the night?”

“I…” Good question. What was I doing out here? “I don’t really know.”

“And let me guess,” Tracy leaned closer, never blinking. “You don’t remember shaking the gates either... and mumbling under your breath?”

I shook my head.

Tracy narrowed his eyes. “Look here, Purple,” he threatened.

My name was Saya. But ever since I turned purple, the nickname stuck. After years of harvesting Malvaos, I got the purple taint in me, as Mom would say. Purple’s fine. I wanted them to fear me.

“I don’t care that you’re leaving here soon. It’s not soon enough.” He gripped me harder. “And they don’t pay me enough.” He dug his nails into my shirt.

Grimacing, I took the pain, prepared for the worst.

He quickly released my arms and backed away fast enough to stay safe from direct contact and slow enough to look in control. He did so only to kick and stomp on me until he was satisfied.

I stayed silent and curled, gasping for air. It only took moments to be broken to bits. The pain I held inside was not just physical but emotional. I was fragile and frail. Powerless. But I did not give myself permission to cry. Cockroaches don’t cry. Neither will I.

“Do this again, and I’ll have my gloves ready to give you a black eye to remember me by,” he growled.

He’s the one that needed a black eye. A black eye would improve his image, I fumed. Seize the silence. Words mean nothing to a roach. Live on.