Infiltrate [3] - very slow updates

04 | Unkown

The walls are so cold, the frigid temperatures rattling inside my mind and sinking into my bones.

The golden bars on my cage are glimmering menacingly and stinging my icy blue irises. I breathe deeply, stopping the sob from releasing from my aching throat. It's hoarse with overuse, even if I know my screams only tend to make things worse.

I think he loves it when I fight, the dark smile on his face always appears. More bruises tend to sink into my flesh and my food becomes sparse.

The white dress is pristine against my porcelain skin. The soft cotton clinging to my bruised flesh, lace climbing up my chest and entwining my neck.

I turn in the bed, wincing as pain explodes in my head. The fluffy quilt sinks around my form, cocooning me in a false sense of safety.

The dark shadows stain the edge of my vision. Clawed hands digging into my elbows as my bony arms sink further into the mattress.

The nightmare is relentless, demonic hands circling my throat and squeezing. Agony burns my blood, the lace like pins against my sensitive flesh as I squint my eyes tightly closed.

Pain claws down my legs, twining like gold rope around my heart.

It tightens, scratching against the appendage as the demon pulls it taut.

The rope tightens and tightens as my chest spasms.

Tightens and tightens as my breath turn shallow.

Tightens and tightens as finally peace finds me.

A knock on the door wakes me from my nightmare and pulls me into a living one.

I sit up in bed, heart galloping in my chest as I bring the white comforter up closer to my chest. I wait for the person to enter.

They do, their greying hair slicked back stylishly as they stroll in, paper in hand.

They smirk at me as they close the gold painted door slightly behind them, leaving it ajar so I can see out into the hall.

The man perches on the end of my canopy bed, the age lines on his face prominent against the dark tan on his skin.

"How are we today?" He asks, looking at the newspaper in his hands.

I know what he wants to hear. So I give it to him.

"Perfect."

He smiles at my approvingly.

"That's good to hear. Are you hungry?"

I also know the answer to this one. It was ingrained in my head after each slap across the face when I answered 'incorrectly'.

"No, I'm fine."

He smiles brightly, pearly white teeth gleaming.

"I'll have Rosa send something up anyway, sound good?"

I nod.

My face stings as he slaps me across the face.

"I expect you to answer."

"Yes, please, sir."

He likes it when I say please.

"Good girl, Rosa will be right up. Sit tight."

Where am I supposed to go?

I look at the bolts I can faintly see on the door, all three of them. The keyhole I know is on the door handle, with only one recipient holding the key.

The man sitting beside me.

But I know another exists, he doesn't.

I glance at the windows, at the brassy gold bars that line both windows, on the inside and the out.

I look at the man who has been holding me captive for the last three years.

I felt like a flourishing bird with clipped wings in a golden cage, the door welded shut by my keeper.

I watch as he sits up, righting his suit before fixing his tie and walking out.

The click of the lock and multiple bolts sliding into place pounds in my mind like a jackhammer.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Finally letting the tear of fear fall, it rolls down my cheek, over my lips before dropping on my wrist.

I glance down at it, at the bruise that adores both my wrists.

Where the restraints were for the last few years until a week ago.

But apparently I had proven myself, by not fighting too much. By not running away.

Now I only have the manacle and chain attached to my ankle and bolted to the wall.

I may not be fighting outwardly. But on the inside I'm screaming.