The Heart Of The Glade

Tour

(WARNING: this chapter contains gory images and mentions of blood. Reading discretion is advised.)

After returning to the kitchen to search for a much needed drink of water, Newt and I sat at a table in the homestead, refreshing ourselves with water and carrot slices. And although I was on my third glass, Newt was still finishing his first. He had been explaining to me all the different things he would show me on the "tour" and the various labors available for a new Glader to choose from to fulfill their part as a member. Or as Alby had said as one of the rules "do your part." Newt also told me that if I couldn't relate to any of the jobs currently open, they had one called the sloppers. Those boys usually got to do the nasty, miscellaneous chores. I did NOT want to end up as a slopper. But being the first girl, I was worried that I might not be able to relate to any form of work that the boys have come up with for themselves.

I was about to ask Newt if we could finally get started on this tour of his that he's been ranting about for the past half hour now (not that listening to his wonderful accent wasn't a pleasure because it certainly was), when he grabs his glass jar and chugs down the rest of his water and snatches the last carrot before standing up and saying, "Well come on Y/N, let's get started." I roll my eyes because he acts as if I was the one holding us up and not him.

'What a shank,' I think, 'But a nice shank.' And I mean it sincerely.

Walking out of the homestead, he first leads me toward the large shack where the animals stay. It was their sort of farm. Nothing impressive but enough to be sufficient for keeping the livestock. As we head that way, I hear a sharp and short sounding "ding" and continue to hear that same noise as we grow closer to the area. Accompanied by the sound is a rather unpleasant smell of what I can tell is a mixture of manure and blood. It's like what I imagine death to smell.

We arrive at the fence before the shack, and Newt opens a make-shift gate and allows me to pass before following after me. In the corner of the fenced square are a herd of pigs, wallowing in the mud of their own feces without a care in the world. And I envy their care-free lives. Now that I am currently in the farm facility though, I decide against envying their stench of death. But I notice that they weren't contaminated with the source of the bloody scent, so from where is that part of the smell coming? Striding into the shack-like barn answers my question.

When we enter the barn, all I can smell is blood. It's repulsive. And it's everywhere. Blood is sprinkled on the floor, walls, tables, and I even spot some on the ceiling above. On the ceiling, however, I observe animal bodies hanging from ropes and cut into several pieces. The sight is sickening and terrifying. I know now that having a job here would be worse than a slopper.

I cover my mouth and nose in an attempt to avoid the horrid aroma. But it doesn't help, and I don't think I can be in here much longer with the sight of strangled animal parts. It's so bad, in fact, that I think I might vomit and cry.

Again I hear the dinging noise to my left and see a short, stocky boy covered in a blood stained apron. He holds a machete in the air before slamming it down on a raw piece of meat, slicing it in two, making said noise. Blood sprays in all directions.

Finally, looking up from his work, the boy smiles and says, "Welcome to the slicers house." 

"I can't do this Newt," I whimper before fleeing the barn.

Newt rushes after me to open the gate, not bothering to stop me. I speed walk away from the farm and kneel in the grass, breathing heavily from shock. I know they need the livestock for food, but I also know that I myself can't handle performing whatever that job entails.

"Y/N, I'm sorry," Newt says, standing over me, "I should've warned you."

I nod my head in reply to signal that I forgive him.