I took the old T-shirt and pants that looked like old hospital gowns.
Before I could pull the T-shirt down my swollen back, I turned in the mirror in order to take a glimpse.
Then I saw it, he’d traced all my bruises, black ink encrypted into my skin, sketching down the marks left by the whip from the other day.
It was a mess.
Painful art.
I pulled down my shirt and limped back to my crib.
They’d thrown a new pair of bedsheets in the cage.
There was the familiar tangy smell in the cage , I looked around. The contents lay raw in the plate, food…. Or should I say dog food.
I sighed loudly, I was tired of this, but tired of being hungry.
I have to get used to this, I thought.
And more importantly, I had to obey and be submissive in order to find a way out of the place.
I
