𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

chapter 𝐭𝐰𝐨.

ˢⁱⁿᶠᵘˡ ⁱⁿᶠᵃᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ

໒꒰ྀི'🐍‧｡⋆

[ a demonstration ]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞. They called it a secure prison base, but you knew. Given the walls were thick bars and were lined with ten thousand bolts in case you ever got too close. 

They didn't want to try anything with you. That's one thing you were happy with; they were intimidated by you. 

You've been in this shithole for a year and a half, and you were safe to assume that after six months, your insanity slowly began chipping away with each merciless attack by the soldiers. Weak fucking men who used their positions of power to do nothing but hurt you. 

Beat, kick, punch, taser, cut, slice, wring. Fucking everything. 

Sure, you sounded weak, but your resolve only diminished with each passing day in the cell. The change within you was subtle, and it took you a while to finally let go of your old ways of defending yourself against the guards, knowing that's what they wanted. It just caused them to hurt you even more. 

Every kick, spit, needle, punch was just another means of humiliation on your end. And with each curse, scream or simple word that you responded with, the torture only continued. With each passing week- no, day, your strength began to fail you. You started to hold back on every little thing that would anger them even more, simply allowing them to abuse your body and mind. 

After a while, the torment lessened. First, it would only happen every second day or so. Then it lessened to a week. You've been fortunate enough to only get a beating every four or five days, and the occasional offspring laceration or painful affliction on Sunday. Apparently, you weren't allowed to rest. 

You heard the familiar scruff of boots, and you turned around, placing a hand on your hip as Griggs and a few men entered your facility room. 

"Hello, Viper," he greeted with a sickening grin. "How's them teeth going? Hiss a little harder at one of my men next time, I'll sink something else into your neck."

"Maybe I should start my morning affirmations," you snapped with a tilt of your head.

"Oh yeah? And what are those?"

"First, give me my fucking meal and I'll tell you."

"They must be mean," he pouted, before nodding at one of the men, slipping a metal tray through the meal opening. It landed on the floor with a clatter, and you raised your brows in annoyance. 

"How pathetic," you scoffed, before moving forward.

Reaching down, your fingers made contact with the steel before the opening of the door had your attention. It was forced forward, making contact with your head and sending you to the floor with a grunt. 

Screaming, you felt their arms surround themselves around, a soldier gripping your loose hair in his hand and ripping it backwards so that your face was lifted upwards. 

Griggs stepped forward, a sigh leaving his nostrils as he cocked his head to the side, taking in your form. "You seem different..." He gripped your chin, forcing your face to the side with a forceful grip. "Oh, what's this?" Leaning down, Griggs brushed a finger over a deep cut on your arm. "Who could've done this?"