Drip.

A pregnant pause before anoth – drip.

It was the only audible sound in her own private hell, and it was driving her insane. How many times had she tried to keep track of the drips? Too many. Drip. She cringed and curled into a tighter ball, ignorant of the cuts and scrapes she received on her ankles from moving against such a coarse surface. Drip. A small groan escaped her parched throat. It was torturous listening to the dripping of water when she was without any. The sound echoed off the stone walls – Drip – and she crunched her shaking fists to her ears. She wasn’t sure if she could endure this life (was she even still alive?) much longer. If she could have, she would’ve cried right then, but the tears never came. A pathetic shell of a human…Drip… that’s what she was.

There was no way to mark the time. No window to the outside world. She couldn’t recall how long she’d been without human contact; at least not since she had confessed. Drip. Confessed? To what? She removed her hands from her ears, and hugged her arms to herself. She couldn’t even remember what warmth felt like. Her eyes went out of focus, seeing into a far off world. …A dream?

‘Alright, alright!’ the words tore from her throat as her torturers were preparing to rip off another toe nail. She shook. Agony seared through every nerve on her body. It was a wonder she was still conscious, much less able to talk. ‘Alright…’ she choked through the tears.

‘Do you confess?’ the Inquisitor’s voice was heavy. She couldn’t tell if he was relieved or disappointed. ‘Well, wench?’ The pressure on her toe returned.

Confess? To what? She didn’t know what she had done to end up in this position or what she was supposed to be confessing. The nail began to tear away from the skin. She gasped in shock at the fresh bloom of pain, her eyes going wide.

‘Yes!’ she sputtered, desperate to make them stop. ‘Yes! I confess! I did it!’ She couldn’t stop shaking even as the Inquisitor wrenched her head upwards by her hair to look him in the eye.

Those eyes. She wanted anything but to have to stare into them. They were sharp, hawk-like, as though they could pierce a person’s soul if the Inquisitor so chose. They were such a light blue that they almost had no color at all. Her breath came in short, fearful bursts, unsure of what he was going to do next; unable to read those dangerous eyes.

‘Filth,’ he spat in her face. ‘Take her away. I never want to see this whore again.’

Rough hands lifted her up and half carried, half dragged her to her cell, and then unceremoniously threw her into it. Her head cracked against the wall and unconsciousness finally claimed her.

She slowly sat up, mindlessly massaging her toes. Seven nails were missing, replaced by bloodied scabs that never healed in this dank environment. It was a miracle they hadn’t succumbed to gangrene. How long had it been? Had that even been real? It felt as though her mind was playing tricks on her, fabricating memories to answer the questions she asked. Squeak.

Her head snapped up. Never before had she heard that noise. Not even when food was slid beneath her door from time to time. Tricks again? She shook her head. This noise was real, she just knew it. She thought she heard the soft footfalls of someone trying to be quiet. There was a jingle as metal struck metal. Almost like keys…

“Hello?” she croaked. Her voice was barely audible, but it had apparently been heard.

“Hold on now, Miss.” The voice was hushed, but she could still feel its soothing quality. “Gods damn these infernal keys,” he hissed. “You clear of the door?”

“Y-Yes,” she replied, shakily getting to her feet and pressing against the far wall.

“Good.” He whispered something she couldn’t hear, and then…

Bang!

The wooden door fell forward, splintered at the hinges, and landed with heavy thud. The man stepped forward and stopped as he finally got a look at her. He squinted, sizing her up and down. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt self conscious, and wished her captors had at least given her some rags to cover up with.

“This is who I’m supposed to save?” he asked, as though speaking to somebody else. Sighing, he extended his hand to her. “Well, c’mon, then.”