The torture continued, a never-ending cycle of pain and suffering. Roman's body was a mere shell of its former self, his limbs severed, his mind numb. He had long since stopped screaming, the agony now a constant companion that he couldn't escape.
She would visit him every day, her presence a harbinger of doom. She would taunt him, her voice a sugary sweet melody that made his skin crawl. She would torture him, her methods inventive and cruel, always seeking a reaction. But Roman had given up, his mind a blank slate, his only thought the burning desire for revenge.
He hated her, with every fiber of his being. He hated her beauty, her grace, her voice. He hated the way she moved, the way she smiled, the way she sang. Her songs were a constant reminder of his captivity, a cruel mockery of his helplessness.
