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The ropes were tight.
Several toad soldiers— disgusting toad soldiers— carried Sasha into a room. It was foreboding, clouded with a musty odor and the interior painted in shades of black and gray. Even as she squirmed and struggled for air, she didn’t faze the soldiers a bit.
She wouldn’t relent so soon— if there was anything Sasha hated the most, it was filth, and she was sure Anne could empathize— so she began swearing at them at the top of her lungs. For once, one of the soldiers, who she’d come to know as Braddock, looked at her with a strange, sudden pity.
“Sorry, creature. Really, I am. But it’s just orders. Didn’t know you could talk.”
Sasha huffed. If you’d told her a week ago that she’d be in this terrible place of talking toad warriors, she would’ve laughed in your face. She wouldn't have believed you.
Eventually (really just after a few seconds, but it felt like so much longer ), the caped figure in the room, bald and scarred, turned towards the soldiers, unimpressed.
“Um, Captain Grime, Sir…” said one, “we found this creature at the outskirts of the Tower.”
The toad (Captain Grime?) examined his claws and gave a shaky, exasperated sigh. Sasha knew this kind of adult; if he was human, he would probably be pinching his nose bridge right about now. “Yes, Percy. I’m not blind in both eyes. Braddock, search her. The rest of you, prepare the cell. Go!” He clapped his hands, and everyone scattered, aside from the toad woman.
No point in a search if you’re just gonna imprison me anyway, Sasha thought dimly.
“Captain Grime, by search her, do you mean…”
Sasha shuddered.
“Absolutely not,” came his voice, laced with disgust, and she was overwhelmed with a surge of relief. “Considering she’s wearing clothes, and the…” —he shot Sasha a disapproving look right then—, “string of profanities she hurled at you earlier, she comes from a civilized, intelligent species. We’re imprisoning her in case she poses a danger to us.”
“If she ‘comes from a civilized species,’ then what’s the use in imprisoning her? She’s not, like, a heron.”
“Don’t argue, fool. We Amphibians are civilized as well, and we eat bugs. Just untie the ropes and wait for the rest of the army. I’ll interrogate her fully in the morrow.”
Disgusting, thought Sasha.
She was brought into the hallway, and Braddock began to untie the ropes like you would ribbon on a Christmas present. She searched her jacket pockets and removed it before giving it back to her. She found the photo and gave it back without a word about it.
“You aren’t from here, huh?” said Braddock, looking at her legs underneath the flimsy salmon-pink uniform skirt. “Keep it. You’re gonna need it.”
Sasha didn’t respond. Not from here… Of course she wasn’t. She never felt welcome in her own home, let alone this place. Maybe the Boonchuys’ was the closest to home. She tied the denim jacket around her waist, already feeling the cold of the Tower beginning to seep in.
All occurred in a blur, but soon there was a crowd of people. A cold leg cuff being attached to one of her ankles and a chain connecting her to a cell. The soldier who she recognized as Percy (why did she remember that?) set down a bowl— a curved bowl, like that of a pet’s— of indiscernible green slop with bugs mixed in. What was undoubtedly dirty water was set down in a similar bowl in the same unceremonious fashion. She gagged and pushed the bowls away in disgust.
“Brat,” said the Captain, laughing a horrible, grating sound. It was still better than the sound of her parents’ yelling; the sound of vodka bottles shattering in the dead of night.
Aside from Percy and Grime, the crowd dissipated. The Captain turned to Percy, sternly speaking.
“Watch her in her waking hours. Release her only to wash herself and use the bathroom; nothing else.”
Percy nodded, saluting, and then vanished.
“Girl,” started the old man, projecting his voice ominously, and Sasha immediately hated it. He sounded so superior. “At ease. I wouldn’t resort to torture. In fact, I may even release you if you prove you’re not a danger to me, my soldiers, or this land. All I require is your cooperation, but if you don’t… Things may end up messy.”
Cooperation. At that word, Sasha wanted to laugh. Sasha could do everything but cooperate; she was a juvenile delinquent, a bad influence, the popular girl who controlled everyone else, not the other way around.
She didn’t respond directly; deflecting was the thing she was best at. She put her hand on her cheek and gave a wry smile, cerulean beams piercing into the toad’s one good eye. “You know, if I had wanted to eat you, don’t you think I would’ve— I don’t know— tried by now?” she asked sarcastically, fake cheerfulness in her voice like candy corn.
He simply walked away, scoffing in incredulity.
There were numerous oddities and knicknacks scattered in the cell; thick piles of hay. Large stones and deep-cutting branches, evoking memories of Amphibians long-forgotten. There was a window, barred. It was far too small to break out of anyhow, but big enough to send cold drafts through and see the sky. Sasha sat on her knees to take in the view, like a little kid trying to see the act at the circus.
It reminded Sasha, oddly, of looking out of her window back at home, seeing Anne and Marcy’s familiar silhouettes waiting by the sidewalk, a promise. Freedom. The whole region was wrapped in gloomy fog like a noose, loosely blanketing even the strange crimson blood moon. It was full that night, marking the beginning of what would’ve been August on Earth.
She traced the worn interior of the cell wall and window frame. The stones rubbed against her palm, sharp as knives. She took a sharp stick from the ground, creating a tally mark in the wall with great difficulty. If they wanted her to play this game so badly, then she would. Ignoring the physical confinement and the absence of her best friends, this was really just as much of a prison as home.
She sat on the cold ground and attempted to sleep, but not really with her mind racing horribly. By what felt like midnight, she’d carved the words, “SASHA WUZ HERE” into the wall out of boredom.
Deciding between back pain and a cold wasn’t an easy choice, but she decided on back pain (there was hay, anyway), gently removing her jacket and laying it on top of her as a makeshift blanket. A cold would be bad to get, imprisoned in another world with all the people she cared about miles away.
She undid her ponytail, feeling the now frizzy, unkempt mess of golden sprawl out behind her. The purple rubber band slapped against her wrist. She stretched, and hesitantly took a small sip of the water. It was murky and metallic in taste, making Sasha regret it.
Then again, though; she wanted to die, but if she was going to, it wasn’t going to be in this place.