Blood seeped from her. It covered her, it covered the floor beneath her broken body. Her arms ached from the tight chains suspending her, the rust intermingling with the dried blood crusting her wrists and hands. Stripes of tattered flesh streaked across her back. Eyes nearly swollen shut, she could hardly see, but she still knew this room all too well. With every struggle, the chains around her waist and neck would tighten.
The chains, so thick and heavy. They held her there, forced her to be his unwilling plaything. Those chains suspended her in the air, bound by her wrists, ankles, neck and waist, there was no hope for escape. Although slightly rusted, the interlocking links were strong nonetheless. The bond from one to the other was in no danger of collapse anytime soon, and she felt they represented her imprisonment.
She was his prisoner. Hours ran into days. Days into weeks, or so she thought. Time is irrelevant. The agony of each breath was made more prominent by the pulling of the chains around her ankles. Slowly, so very slowly, they stretched her tattered body and ripped her even more. She no longer felt the pain, she was far too damaged to even register the new threats. She had been here before, the man never lets her escape. His name is unknown, simply known as the Bald Man. Never knowing when he would come back, she waited in constant fear.
The room, a dark and damp basement, was filled with ordinary objects one wouldn't think to use for torture. The Bald Man was gifted, he knew how to inflict pain and trap her in the most ingenious of ways. She never knew how she fell into his traps, she simply found herself there. She was never allowed to see how, only the pain. This makeshift torture chamber was the only constant. She knew it all too well. She knew the creaking door, the way the floorboards creaked with his every step.
Footsteps. He's back.
"Hello my dear. Are you ready to play some more?"
