The Torture Begins: Fiona
Blind. I woke up blindfolded and strapped into a sitting position against a cool hard surface.
I’d once had a head cold so bad I couldn’t breathe through my nose, which had thrown off my hunting skills for a week. That had practically been unbearable, but never before had I had my vision cut off like it was now.
This time I could still smell, but what I found was repugnant enough I considered vomiting. The sounds weren’t much better, because it was absolutely silent. No creaking of wind in the distance, no faint sounds of wildlife in the area, no car’s trundling down the highway, no familiar heartbeat of my lover.
How long I was trapped like this was hard to tell, long enough I defecated on myself, making my modesty take a step back, though not altogether gone as my skin continued shivering against the cool floor that never seemed to warm against myself.
There was also a trickle of blood scaling down both of my arms, from where I had tried to pull the skin off in an effort to force those bracers from my system. There were two needle sharp points digging into each wrist, lodged right where the bone slightly protruded. If the silver coursing through my system hadn’t stopped me from taking on my more predatory form, then those cuffs keeping me to this wall would have anyways.
Still time continued to pass, yet I had no visitors. Nor any food, or water, despite my protesting body saying this needed to be otherwise. ‘This is some sort of experiment’ my mind helpfully supplied. Probably testing how long I’d survive without food or water compared to a normal human. If they didn’t hurry up and release me soon, they were going to find out, not much longer.