[TW: mentions of physical and sexual abuse]
Drusilla lay on the cold, wet floor. Her stomach growled, haunted by a gnawing hunger that couldn't be satiated. After all, she wasn't given much that could help with that. She could barely remember when was the last time she had a proper meal. Maybe it was two days ago? Three? Or perhaps it had been before she had even arrived in this godforsaken place.
Day in and out, Jean Nott found new ways to mess with her. At first, he had his fun with her, marveling at her beauty and how wonderful a job Alistair had done in recreating Daphne's face. The time spent together was sweet and pleasurable, so much so that Drusilla had even forgotten the promise he had made in punishing her for not being the real Daphne.
Then, his fantasies got darker and more violent.
