An Abstract Fantasy

The water drenched my tangled tresses as I watched the crimson liquid drip to the floor. The shackles dug painfully into my wrists and I let out a muffled whimper. There was not a single window in the dark damp room, and only paint covered the mold filled walls. I felt like I was suffocating, and as the door creaked open I was all too aware of my grim fate. Step after step, I quivered with fear while his heavy boots landed with a resounding thud against the cold concrete. I was more than terrified and I contemplated on asking him to kill me then and there. Now I wasn't no coward, but damn if looks could kill I'd be dumped in a ditch yesterday, decapitated and virtually unrecognizable- If looks could only kill. Two weeks dragged by from the time I was brought here and unfortunately it was the same routine. He'd come into the room with a glass of water and a tray of food, make some impossible request, and after I refused he would 'regretfully' sedate me. Before I knew it, weeks turned into months and I began to succumb to this pitiful fate of mine.