She had no idea how long it had been. How many days, weeks or months had gone by. To her, it was every day. Her body would be beaten, or tortured or abused in some new way. Whipping, beatings, scalding, burning, breaking, chipping, crushing, tearing… Whenever her body wanted to cooperate, she had begged her captors for death, an end to the misery… But every time afterwards, she would hear the gentle voice telling her to hang on, to believe. She loved the voice, and every moment awake, during every bit of pain and suffering, she would remember the voice, long for it and desire it. To be complimented, caressed and soothed, reaffirmed of her worth, praised for her resilience, and even at times, the voice would mend her wounds, close her torn skin, or bandage up her bruised body. Every time, the angry, violent man would remove the voice from her, only increasing her longing for the blissful moment of relief. Everything had blurred, her memories a sea of unclear images.
She stirred, her whole body ached and felt cold except for thin trickles of blood running from her forehead, dripping onto her chest and running the length of her nude body. She vaguely remembered being beaten with an iron pipe. The blindfold was back on, and apart from her own ragged breaths, all was quiet.
She wanted to stand, but her body refused to move. As she considered drifting back to sleep, she heard footsteps approaching. Her mind filled once more with dread; what sort of pain would she be subjected to this time?
Her question remained unanswered. The door opened and from the sound of it, two pairs of booted feet entered the tiny cell.
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“Congratulations you little murderer, it’s time for you to leave this place.” The voice of a man she had no recollection of spoke, and she waited for the sharp pain, followed by that sweet, eternal darkness to consume her. Instead, the cuffs holding up her arms were opened, and her broken limbs dropped to the floor with a wet slap. Next, she felt a hot breath on her face, heard rope loosen around some pouch or satchel, and the feeling of some liquid being poured down her throat.
In an instant, the thick haze made from her body numbing out the pain vanished, and she was shocked to feel nothing at all. No pain, no weight, a strange feeling of lightness took hold, and she felt convinced that she had died. One of the individuals picked her up in strong, hairy and burly arms.
The cold of her small prison soon gave way to a very hot room, and under her blindfold, her damaged eyesight could make out a room, gently lit by a huge chandelier suspended from the ceiling. A moment later, she was placed on something soft, which she felt might engulf and suffocate her slowly if she remained still.
“Here you are madam… Not quite sure why you have taken such an interest in this wretched little rat, but that’s not my concern… Pay up.”
“After putting this poor child through so much, I’d ought to spend the payment on her treatment instead.”
“Madam… Pay, up.” The man’s voice darkened, and the sound of sharp weapons being readied broke the ensuing silence.
“Farsilden, please handle the payment.”
“Yes madam.”
The strange feeling of being surrounded by a gentle softness, and a gentle warmth, sparked a strange, but at the same time, familiar feeling. Hope. Moments later she felt a different presence, and heard the voice she yearned for.
“Rest now child… Rest and I will make you better.”
With those words, the girl’s mind fell into the darkness.