Life was different ever since then.
Waking up was different, a different view, a different feeling – an empty feeling, and somehow with every passing day blurring seamless and unknowing into the next, it only seemed to feel even emptier.
In the beginning, they had placed her someplace dark, where sleep became the only sole escape from the constant agony ravaging her frail body.
But the darkness would buckle, it'd creaked, and it would not allow her always for an easy slumber… most of the time she would spend staring mutely out the gaps of her iron cell, and out towards the wooden walls beyond, where narrow rays of cold, winter light would touch her from the crevices.
It was a schedule, a monotony, that would only be periodically interrupted by one of the red figures, sometimes two… and then the dominating, irresistible feeling would stir again, forcing her already inert self even more helpless, as they did as they willed, as they wanted.
