Shruti lost track of time in that hell. Day and night blurred together, swallowed by the thick darkness that clung to the room like a disease. There were no windows, only the sickly flicker of the dim, overhead light that barely stayed on. When it did, she almost wished it wouldn't-because then, she saw everything. The peeling, mold-infested walls. The rusty chains biting into her skin. The dried blood on the floor, some of it hers, some of it belonging to those who had been here before her.
She learned quickly that screaming was useless.
The first time, she had screamed herself hoarse, begging for someone-anyone-to hear her. She pulled at the chains until her wrists bled, until her shoulders felt like they would rip from their sockets. But the only response was laughter.
A deep, mocking chuckle from the shadows.
"I like that spirit," the voice had said.
"Let's see how long it lasts."
And so they began their work.
The Pain They Gave Her
Pain became her constant companion. They made sure of it.
Some days, it was the needles-long, thin, sliding under her nails one by one, twisting until she felt like she would pass out from the sheer agony. Other times, it was blades-sharp enough to slice into her skin but never deep enough to kill. They carved lines into her arms, her legs, her stomach, watching as blood seeped out in slow, lazy trails.
"She's pretty when she bleeds," one of them had said, tilting her chin up to make her look at herself in a cracked, filthy mirror.
She didn't even recognize herself anymore.
Bruises painted her skin in purples and blues, swelling until her face barely looked human. Her lips were always cracked, always dry, from the lack of water. Hunger gnawed at her insides, but when they did feed her, it was never real food-stale bread, rotting vegetables, or something worse that she refused to think about.
They shattered her bones when she disobeyed.
Once, she had spat at one of them, her lips curling in defiance even as her entire body trembled. The punishment was swift.
A hammer.
Her left kneecap.
The pain had been blinding, so intense that she nearly blacked out. But they wouldn't let her.
"No, no," the captor had whispered, pressing his fingers against her throat, forcing her eyes to stay open. "You don't get to leave just yet."
They never let her rest.
If she fell asleep, they would wake her with ice-cold water thrown at her face, or a boot pressing down on her already broken limbs.
"Can't have you getting too comfortable," they sneered.
The physical wounds hurt. But the psychological games were worse.
They made her listen to screams-some fake, some real, some that sounded too much like Dev.
They left her in darkness for days, shutting off even the flickering light, trapping her in an abyss where her own thoughts became the real torment. In that pitch-black prison, time ceased to exist, and the silence was broken only by the sound of her own ragged breathing. Her mind played cruel tricks on her-whispers that weren't there, figures moving in the corners of her vision.
Then they would drag her out, force her in front of a TV, and make her watch.
They had videos.
Of Dev's death.
Of Druve.
Her Druve.
They showed her images of him, alive and well, moving on. The sight of him was like a knife to her heart-he was searching, she could see it in his eyes, but he looked colder, harder. They twisted the knife further.
"He'll forget you," they whispered. "He already has."
She tried not to believe them, but doubt had a way of creeping in.
Her faith cracked.
Her mind splintered.
The Moment They Almost Won
At some point, Shruti stopped struggling.
She no longer fought when they dragged her from the room. She no longer flinched when the knives pressed against her skin.
She barely even reacted when they threw her into a tub of freezing water, holding her under until her lungs screamed for air.
She had stopped feeling.
Stopped hoping.
Until one day, they asked her, "What's your name?"
And she hesitated.
For the first time, she hesitated.
Because suddenly, she wasn't sure.
She was breaking. And they knew it.
And they smiled.