Ali stumbled inside, flinching at the sound of the door shutting. Voices faded away. She was alone again. A moment later, she felt circulation returning to her wrists with a stinging pain. Ali reached up and slowly pulled the hood from her head, blinking, only to realize the cell she was in was as dark as it had been under the hood. She reached out with her hands, blindly stumbling about in the dark, when she crashed into the stone shelf that served as a bed, yelping in surprise. After a moment, she could see the faintest outlines.
Ali sank to the floor, leaning against one of the walls, her knees drawn up to her chin, her hands resting on her knees. She could hear herself breathing, inhaling, exhaling. She did not speak. In the feast of silence, she could hear the the sound of distant, feral screams and explosions, great, wracking sobs, could smell burned husks of wood and metal, rotting flesh and propane. In the darkness, she trembled, moisture forming at the corners of her eyes.
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Snippet #1175636
located in Interrogation Room, a part of When the Lion Wakes, one of the many universes on RPG.
A sparsely furnished room, with harsh fluorescent lighting protected by a wire cage, with a metal table and chairs, and a one-way mirror on one wall. The walls and floor are plain, and no lighting or ventilation controls in sight. You are being recorded.