In the dark, dank basement of Li Yanyan's villa, a woman's frantic screams echoed through the corridors, piercing the oppressive silence with a haunting desperation. Her voice, raw and hoarse from weeks of unrelenting torment, reverberated against the cold, unforgiving walls as she banged her head softly against the unyielding concrete.
Marks marred her face and arms, a tapestry of self-inflicted wounds that spoke volumes of the mental anguish she had endured. The guards stationed outside her small cell exchanged amused glances, their laughter echoing like a twisted mockery of her suffering.
"She's been like this for over three weeks now," one guard chuckled, his voice laced with a callous indifference. "Maybe Ma'am should just, you know, get rid of her."
