It was cold in the warehouse this morning, causing the uncomfortable metal seat and bars I gripped onto to become frosty. I wasn't sure if my hands were cracking from the cold or the coal, but either way, my palms became sore and stiff. Despite the weather and the stuffy air, I still managed to have a burning sensation in my lungs, which gave me some warmth at least. 

A small cloud from a cough entered the cold atmosphere but I didn’t think any of it. Until it happened again, and again, and again. 

The boy next to me, Collin, began to cough violently. The warehouse seemed to freeze and everyone turned to look at him. He was small, smaller than me although being two years older. He has worked in the warehouse much longer than I have but began to slow down as the years went on. He wheezed for a long while until the metal door that guarded the entrance slammed open. 

In walked a big burly man, one of the managers that watched over us, Mr. Mitchell. He was strict and demanding, if you didn’t move at a certain pace then you were going to face his wrath. Almost everyone turned back to their work, trying to impress him or just avoid trouble. But a few of the boys, including me, stood to watch.

Collin had tears in his eyes from choking so hard, but his hand that jerked with every cough continued to work. “Mr. Taylor?” Mr. Mitchell seethed out, bending down so his red face was eye-level with Collin. Collin didn’t respond, not even an attempt was made to look at the superior. Mr. Mitchell did not like that, his huge hands wrapped around the small boy’s shoulders, forcing him to turn. 

“Collin Taylor,” He said louder, yelling in the boy's face. 

Slowly, Collin’s red and watery eyes looked up at Mr. Mitchell, for a second, everything was quiet until a fit of violent coughing left Collin’s lips, blood shooting out and onto Mr. Mitchell’s white shirt. 

“You brat!” He grabbed Collin by the hair and dragged him off the metal structure and onto the chute full of minerals we were supposed to sort, causing him to get a face-full of coal. “I hope you can afford a hospital, boy, because the only thing you're gonna be seeing from now on is your mother begging you to live!” 

A shudder went down my back as I watched Mr. Mitchell drag off the screaming boy, his words inaudible but I could make out his pleas to continue working, to continue to support his family. The metal door shut with a slam and everybody continued on their work as if nothing happened. Another manager walked in afterward, who I recognized as Mr. Harper. 

He was tall and thin, with only a few strands of hair and sinister eyes. He took long strides to Collin's workstation, the one right next to me, and grabbed Collin’s gloves and bag with his spare clothes. I watched silently, it was as if Collin was being erased in front of my eyes.

“Mr. Phillip Adller,” Mr. Harper's voice calling my name cut me off from my trance as his eyes glanced over me. My heart was beating out of my chest as I met his eyes. “Yes, sir?”

“Do you want to end up like Mr. Collin Taylor?” He asked.

I gulped and shook my head. His eyes narrowed, “Now I know you’re only seven, but I expect you to answer me verbally, Mr. Adller.”

“No sir, I don’t want to end up like Mr. Taylor.”

“Then I suggest you get back to work.”