Starved

Arlo had been starving for many years now. The unsteady grumble in his gut a constant reminder of who and where he was. He was a half-demon, a sucky one at that. It didn't matter if he looked the part. So what if his skin was leatehry red. What of the black twisted horns that popped out of his dark curls? It didn't make him one of them. His stomach rumbled again. It was dinner in hell; the prisoners were receiving their food. Not Arlo, of course.

Stuck behind the cold iron bars that burned to the touch, it was all he could do not to reach through and rip the food from the boy's hands. He watched him so closely, his mouth watering at the sight of the half-stale bread and too-mushy potatoes. The boy couldn't have been more than twelve, with blonde wavy hair and sharp green eyes. He almost taunted Arlo with the food, waving it at him before devouring it. Arlo let out a low growl, grumbling at himself for not taking the burn and getting the food.

He clawed at the vibrant red sands below him, allowing the grains to flow through his fingers. He'd been stuck here for seven years now. He was almost a teenager when his father "kidnapped" him. To be honest, it hardly was considered kidnapping, given that Arlo went willingly and all. I mean, what was the boy to do, lost in the woods, frozen half-to-death? How could he say no to what he believed to be mercy?

Only, it was no mercy at all. No, King Salvador of the Demon Realms didn't have a merciful bone in his aged body. He brought Arlo with him in hopes that he'd bend down like the rest of the half-demons he had created. Arlo was meant to torture souls, to revel in the misery of others like his siblings. But the boy cried every time he even thought about harming someone. He was Salvador's gravest disappointment. Starvation was far from the only torment Arlo had learned to endure in his time locked away.

"Staring isn't going to put food in your mouth," Lorain called from her corner of the cell. Arlo barely even turned to look at her before his cheeks flushed red. Lorain was beautiful. Long blonde hair and a freckled face. Her dress was crimson and tattered from the fighting they had just faced in the arena.

"I just miss food," Arlo quietly admits, his gaze wandering to the floor.

"They don't feed you?" Lorain's voice squeaked, her honey eyes widening. He couldn't bring himself to shake his head, embarrassed by it all. That's when the torment got worse. The small slate in the cell swung open with a single tray of food. The same as the boy next door, nothing more than bread and some potatoes.

Lorain looked at Arlo for a moment before getting up and retrieving her food. Arlo closed his eyes, sitting back with a huff. There was no way he could bring himself to watch her eat, too. That pain would be all too much. The sands shifted beside him as Lorain took her seat, the tray tightly gripped in her slim hands.

Arlo dared to peep as she tore the bread in two, offering him half. Arlo chuckled, half-shaking his head.

"I couldn't," He lied. "That's your food."

"How are we going to escape if you're dead?"

"Escape?" He furrowed his brow, taking the piece with a shaking hand. "You think we can escape?" Lorain shrugged, taking a bite of the bitter dough.

"I mean to. I won't spend the rest of forever behind these lousy bars or off fighting dragons for a demon." Arlo flinched at the word. Lorain's eyes softened. "I didn't mean it like that. You're nothing like them." Arlo nodded, biting into his portion of the food. He couldn't help the groan that escaped his throat. It tasted awful but heavenly. Lorain laughed at him, the sound heavenly to his ears. He hoped she would never stop laughing.

"Your laugh is beautiful." The words burned as they left his mouth, the silence deafening. Lorain's cheeks reddened, her hand slightly trembling as her lips slightly parted. Arlo could taste the vomit in his throat. Why had he said that? "I mean, all of you is beautiful, really." Lorain nodded, making sure to look anywhere but his face. His crooked nose or his poison green eyes.

They sat in silence for a few moments as Arlo took another bite. He wanted to moan again, but couldn't find it in him to do so. So instead he enjoyed it in silence, praying to any god that could hear him that this was only the first of many meals to come. Food. He devoured the bread in two bites, all but forgetting about the mush that Lorain was dipping her bread into.

"Do you have a plan?" Arlo asked next.

"What?"

"For escaping?" He clarified. His hands shook as he steadied them in the sands; digging in the dirt seemed to be the only thing to soothe his anxiety these days. And he had lots of anxiety. "Do you have a plan?"

"Sorta." A million thoughts ran through Arlo's head. Of all the ways he'd be cut open if Salvador or his sister caught wind of this.

Arden, the purple half-demon, would tear him apart piece by piece if she knew he meant to escape. They already had to fight for their lives in the arena since Lorain's earlier attempt at escaping. Arlo couldn't stand the idea of them torturing her again. The sound of her screaming still echoes in his dreams. The flash of lightning blasted her skin. Hell, her fingers were still blackened at the ends. He knew he should warn her that attempting to escape was futile. It was suicide even, but instead he said-

"Is it stupid?" Arlo half-chuckled. Lorain smiled, the gesture lighting a fire in Arlo's rapidly beating heart. He could stare at her smile for an eternity and never tire of it.

"Probably."

"Then, I'm all in." Lorain shook her head, continuing to eat her food. And in his head, Arlo swore he'd do anything to stay by her side, no matter how stupid it might be. "As long as there is food, of course."