With a pained groan and a splitting headache; Damiane rose weakly from her laying position, fighting against shaky limbs to do so. Her entire body cried out in agony at her every movement, weighed down by simple fatigue, sore muscles, and what she could only think to be a sedative. Though the girl wasn’t exactly a party girl, she’d had enough experience with the harshness of life and the dreaded Rohypnol to know quite well how a sedative drug felt in one’s body. What she didn’t know, however, was why the hell her spinning vision was of darkness and dirt laden floors.
Groggily, and with much effort, the ebony haired girl tentatively brought a hand to her skull. The dry, crusted substance that met her touch quickly brought a deep scowl to her features. If someone was going to kidnap her, for whatever purpose they could have, surely it wouldn’t be too much to ask they at least have the decency to not beat her head. After a second or two of soothing her fuzzed mind and urging her eyes to focus enough to see more than hazed flashes of images; Damiane lightly began to survey the area she was in. Through the veil of darkness that surrounded her, she made out the general boundaries of a...glass box? Ignoring the pain that shot through her with every move, Damiane shot to her feet; frantically running to what seemed the other side of her prison immediately afterwards.
Just as she feared, her outstretched hand made contact with a practically frozen wall of glass. Out of instinct, her other hand was quick to follow, the frail girl pounding onto the glass with all the strength her body could muster. There was only one thought that rushed through her fear ridden mind. She had to get out. Again and again she pounded her fists, her legs, her body, anything and everything she could against the glass barrier, until the skin on her knuckles was rubbed raw and the bones in her hand, perhaps broken, she couldn’t much tell, prevented her from hitting the wall any longer. Defeated, she slid back to her knees, tears cascading down her pale cheeks as she pathetically wailed.
Why should she care what she looked like anyways? She was alone, trapped in a room of glass, and bound to die. There was no point in worrying over pride any longer.
When her leg rubbed against something small, rectangular, and vaguely plastic, though, her attention drifted back to reality. Weakly, Damiane rubbed at the tears clouding her vision, turning her eyes to the small item she had by then placed within her grasp. Before her vision could reach the item though, her mind had been distracted by an entirely different sight. Two shackled figures not far into the darkness. Vaguely, she noted that the walls she was imprisoned within must have been sound proof, as neither of the figures seemed to have noticed her at all. Innless they were already dead...she shuddered at the thought. Surely, she figured, they wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of knocking her out with such high grade sedatives if they only intended to kill her...right?
Groggily, and with much effort, the ebony haired girl tentatively brought a hand to her skull. The dry, crusted substance that met her touch quickly brought a deep scowl to her features. If someone was going to kidnap her, for whatever purpose they could have, surely it wouldn’t be too much to ask they at least have the decency to not beat her head. After a second or two of soothing her fuzzed mind and urging her eyes to focus enough to see more than hazed flashes of images; Damiane lightly began to survey the area she was in. Through the veil of darkness that surrounded her, she made out the general boundaries of a...glass box? Ignoring the pain that shot through her with every move, Damiane shot to her feet; frantically running to what seemed the other side of her prison immediately afterwards.
Just as she feared, her outstretched hand made contact with a practically frozen wall of glass. Out of instinct, her other hand was quick to follow, the frail girl pounding onto the glass with all the strength her body could muster. There was only one thought that rushed through her fear ridden mind. She had to get out. Again and again she pounded her fists, her legs, her body, anything and everything she could against the glass barrier, until the skin on her knuckles was rubbed raw and the bones in her hand, perhaps broken, she couldn’t much tell, prevented her from hitting the wall any longer. Defeated, she slid back to her knees, tears cascading down her pale cheeks as she pathetically wailed.
Why should she care what she looked like anyways? She was alone, trapped in a room of glass, and bound to die. There was no point in worrying over pride any longer.
When her leg rubbed against something small, rectangular, and vaguely plastic, though, her attention drifted back to reality. Weakly, Damiane rubbed at the tears clouding her vision, turning her eyes to the small item she had by then placed within her grasp. Before her vision could reach the item though, her mind had been distracted by an entirely different sight. Two shackled figures not far into the darkness. Vaguely, she noted that the walls she was imprisoned within must have been sound proof, as neither of the figures seemed to have noticed her at all. Innless they were already dead...she shuddered at the thought. Surely, she figured, they wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of knocking her out with such high grade sedatives if they only intended to kill her...right?