| | Her throat was killing her. Each swallow was self inflicted torture, but of one she couldn't prevent. How does one not swallow? How does one stop the production of saliva? She swallowed again around the feel of the iron shackle around her neck. The pain lanced through her, making her sinuses run and her eyes water. She sniffed reflectively.
Sweat beaded around her temples and rolled into the greasy strands of her hair. The material of her once white tank top clung wetly to her body, the grungy material completely soaked through between her breasts, her shoulder blades, her underarms. It was hot and sticky in here. The smell of human filth and her own unwashed body permeated the air, but she had been here for so long, her nose had already acclimated to the stench.
She had to pee again, but she willed herself to be strong. She would not be so weak as to soil where she laid. Never mind that her muscles were weak from dystrophy. She willed her limbs to move. Inch by aching inch. It was exhausting work, and the shackle around her throat never relented. Only the shining hope of knowing that it was just a matter of time kept her going. She would be freed from this prison. She would not break.
The sound of heavy footsteps and the jangling of keys reached her ears. The door opened.
*****
I get inspired by real life. Just a drabble. Love to know your thoughts. =D |
| | Posted 11/10/2009 1:12 PM - 17 Views - 4 eProps - 3 comments
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