Something

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Sorry I haven't uploaded in a while! I hadn't realized it had been that long since my last update. My sincerest apologies. Once again, dream in astricks if you can't see the italics. 

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 *I can smell the stench of death in the air, a heavy air that reeks of the metallic smell of air and rotting. The room is dark, save a single beam of light that filters in through a pinprick sized hole in the wall.

He said it was my punishment, that little ray of sun. Pure darkness was too kind, one can assimilate to that. But you can never get used to something when freedom, happiness, and life were there, just beyond your reach. That is the worst kind of torture. It is torture using one of the greatest feelings a human can possess and one of the worst. It is torture of hope.

I raise a hand to the beam, but it is out of reach from my shackled arm. My eyes stay trained on the top of the beam, unable to meet its end. They had placed Jasmine’s dead body under the ray. It is my reward for being such a good girl.

Outside of the door, a man is sitting-or quite possibly standing, I cannot see him, only hear- and snoring. I am surprised that he has yet to be killed for such blatant disregard for his duties. I cannot help but passively wonder when he will die at the hand of my captor. Surely, it is the only way he will die.

Sighing, I rest my head on my knees and stare at the light. I am losing all sense of time, although I know I have been here in this room for two days. My stomach is beginning to protest at the lack of sustenance being fed to it, but it is being overpowered for my body’s dire need for water. My throat is uncomfortably dry and my mouth has no moisture.

I let out a small hacking sound that only serves to agitate my throat further. It feels dryer than the floor of Death Valley and hotter than the blue part of a flame.

Closing my eyes, I urge my mind to focus on anything other than the dead body to my right or the pain and discomfort racking my body. At least the intense thirst is serving as a sort of morphine to my broken bones and bruised skin.

My mind goes blank for a while, and I think I have fallen asleep. Surely though, if I had, I would not be feeling the hard dirt ground below me or the rough metal chains on my limbs.

I do not know how long I am out for, but it is more than a few hours later because the next time I open my eyes, my little light friend has disappeared. The door across from me groans as it is pushed open and I rapidly blink my eyes to alleviate the stress on my pupils as the beam of a flashlight shines directly on my face.

I feel a cold hand wrap around my bare bicep before I am pulled up. The hand pulls me up until my feet no longer touch the ground. It drops me. I feel the chains tug on my wrists painfully as I fall to far. I cry out in anguish. It does not go unnoticed.

The hand that was once pulling me up is now moving across my cheek with the speed and force of a moving train. I cry out again, only to receive another slap on the other side. I bite my lip and keep quiet. I learn my lesson. They still continue to teach me.

The flashlight turns off at one point or another while I continue to be beaten into the ground. They are yelling expletives at me but my ears go unhearing. One of the men delivers a final, bone-crushing kick to my unbroken ribs and then a camping lantern is lit.

I let out a shaky breath. It pains me to breath, something in the back of my mind wonders if they have punctured a lung. I can barely open my eyes, but I know they would be happy if I died at their hands. Staying alive is the only defiance I can shell out.

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