Scratches. They are all over my body, cutting and scraping into my skin, with no mercy or remorse for the pain that is stretching across me like a tight rope.
“Who are you?” I weep. “Why have you done this to me?”
The figure stands in front of me, darkened and obscured by the looming shadows. I see no expression on his face, but somehow I sense it is not a sympathetic one.
“You deserve this, girl,” he snarls, “you know that very well. And there is no point in questioning who I am since you have seen me so often before.”
I pause, my body still pulsing from the intense pain. The blood is seeping slowly from my gashes, just like my tears, which roll delicately down my cheeks. I know exactly what he means, but I am trying desperately to deny it. It can’t be him…it can’t be.
Before I can do any more, he is gone, closing the metal door behind him. I am alone, in my prison slowly dying… and then I suddenly feel my wounds mysteriously closing up.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
