Toy Boys

This place is sick.

The Haruk have been playing with us. Parading us like... I dunno... some sort of novelty toys, before crowds of horribly bloodthirsty mental blue bastards, who all sneer and cheer and throw things at us and lap up the gore as behind us the Haruk and Ssala brutally murder each other.
Dinosaurs trample the fallen.

The Haruk have been taking it 'easy' on me and Plisken (by which I mean they're not trying to kill us), and so far we've gotten away with just bruises and a few not-too-serious cuts and scrapes, but I have the feeling it's only a matter of time before they get bored of this and force us to fight seriously.
I ache like smeg.
I know I was missing working out, but come on!

The stuff they give us to eat is more disgusting looking than the Ssala gruel, but there's no way I'm refusing it, I need every calorie, every molecule of energy I can get, right now. They're not (currently) trying to kill us, but they are working us like mules. Plisken seems to like the food, that's something I suppose. Mind you I'm worried about his state of mind, he's been a bit erratic. The other day he started cackling in the arena when a terrified young Ssala shat himself. That didn't seem very Plisken-like.

It is hard not to lose it though, I'm half out of my mind with rage at the injustice. I can't bear it that they kill all those slaves, and how they do it.
I'm also feeling like shite and wish I had Phil's flask or a packet of DS which I've suddenly been craving again, but it's a case of having to hold it all down, push through it. There's no choice.

I saw Cass the first day we were forced into the arena. I wasn't sure it was her at first, because her hair has been cut short and ragged. She was less pale but she was even skinnier than usual and didn't look in a good way. She was alive, though, thank smeg.
She was in the crowd, with some big fat Haruk and though she was some distance away I could see that her gaze was kind of glazed. Guess that's what this place does to you.
She didn't look very surprised to see us. I tried to make eye contact but I could only steal a quick glance, and when I looked back later, she'd gone.

Us fighting slaves don't seem to get much time to ourselves but when we do - perhaps in an attempt to keep us sane - Plisken has been telling us stories of some great space-farer's voyages through the universe. The Ssala don't understand, and I can't tell whether he's making the stories up or he's recounting real adventures, but his voice seems to kinda comfort the Ssala, and the tales are a welcome distraction from the warped Haruk.

The blue *ssh*les have got a thing about hair. Creeps me out.
The slavemaster and his lackey discovered this morning that they can shave it, so the old guy and me were scraped raw.
Thankfully not everywhere, not our heads at least, they seem to like it there, and Plisken got to keep his beard.

While they were investigating me with the knife, they kept clinking it over my staples, and it didn't take a genius to guess what was coming next. Sure enough, with what seemed like sniggers, they tore a couple of the metal strips out with the tip.
The staples are a bit overdue to come out, granted, but they're not supposed to be ripped out like that. Those things are hooked in there.
I bled, and they loved it.
The mother-smeggers only stopped at two because they were summoned by an even bigger monster.

I want to smash their hateful faces in but I'd given up fighting back after the first day, because every time I did, they didn't punish me but would select one of the weaker Ssalas to punish in my place, reveling in how it got to me.

Not sure how, but we've gotta get out of this hell-hole before I do something stupid and Plisken loses the plot completely.

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