a/n - unedited cuz im lazy.
Her wrists are rubbed raw to the bone.
But it still doesn't stop the determined female. Her body is barely surviving, fragile and weak, riddled with cold. Her mind slowly becomes delirious, but the adrenaline acts as electrical shocks, keeping her awake and in tune. It keeps her alive. She tugs again and again at the metal shacks around her wrists, pulling and pulling till her blood paints the floor, yet nothing.
An exasperated sigh comes from her, slumping down and laying with a flat back. Her legs feel like toothpicks, yet she still tucks them in close to her chest. Her skin doesn't even feel like skin anymore, mirroring hard plastic. A couple more cycles of day and night had passed, the weather still hellbent on torturing them.
The number of girls that had been here were getting lower and lower. Most of them hadn't come to their senses, and those that did were too riddled with fear to speak. They kept to themselves, essentially waiting for death. Wolves would come and choose their pick, plucking them. Within a matter of minutes, they would return, and another body would be added to the pile. It was sickening.
Her body ached for warmth, aggravated with hunger. She had resorted to sipping melted snow that had fallen at the very edge, pooling into water in the cracks, having to bend like an animal and licking it up. Her mouth and throat were dry, and she honestly didn't know how her body was still holding on. She didn't think of much during her time. Her eyes just stuck to the land of nothing and held desperately to the Moon when night fell.
She wouldn't survive much longer; she could feel her physical self-withering away.
Lucrezia didn't know if her father would ever find her; they took her to nowhere. There are no links, no allies in the area, no service or electrical infrastructure for signals. There was nothing. How would they be able to get her? And even if they did, they would have to correspond and work with the other Kingdoms, especially if they've recognised the pattern of missing girls – which she's sure they have. If this is a collaborative operation, it would be quite big, and setting it up and establishing it would take time.
They would find her at some point; she just didn't know whether it would be dead or alive.
The wolves came and picked randomly. There was nothing she could do but pray. Only four girls were left, including her. No one new had arrived since.
She didn't try and think about the wolves and what they wanted. Obviously this tied into all their attacks globally, but she didn't have in her to care anymore about the motive. She just thought about her dad, King Phobos and her friends. Occasionally she would think about her mother, a soul she never met but a soul who she is so intricately tied with.
Night falls once again and she sighs, chest hurting. Maybe she wouldn't make it one more night. It hurt to even blink, and her open wounds were heavily infected now. The night is beautiful, and she relishes in at least that. At least she would die with the stars and the moon. Her heart thumps weakly, still attempting to push through. The adrenaline had long died out, fizzling into nothing within her blood. Her veins are purple and black, skin hued heavily blue.
She can't help but give into sleep quickly – it's all she's capable of doing, but despite the hours and hours she's passed out, she never feels rested. She's at her last brink.
Movement spurring the slink of the dark causes her to stir, pale blue duller than ever when they blink open. Her body and mind are so lifeless, there's nothing that runs through her head. She simply can only exist and experience.
Her now thin frame is pulled, metal shackles around her feet and wrists broken in one swift movement. Her long black hair is dirty, and heavily matted, entwined with leaves and mud.
