Water. Ema's throat cried as she studied the darkness that enveloped her. How long has it been? She tried to recall, but her mind would not think up a thing. It was hard to keep track of time, especially since her cell seems to be in isolation from the others. All she needed at the moment was water, no matter the quantity.
A loud noise echoed on the door as the lock bolt left its place. Some voices followed too, but Ema shields her eyes when the white light came pouring into the darkroom, drawing tears from the pool of her lacrimal gland. The vague features of the people who stood at the door rupture into multiple images, making it difficult to distinguish one from the next.
"You messed up. You messed with the wrong woman, Sparkle"
