Three days. No food. Just one cup of water per day, passed silently through a crack in the heavy door.
They thought they could break me.
The room was cold, no larger than a walk-in closet. The stone walls sweated at night, leaking dampness that soaked through my thin dress and clung to my skin. There was no bed. Just the floor. No light except for the small shaft of moonlight that filtered through a barred slit near the ceiling.
But the worst part wasn’t the cold or the hunger. It was knowing why they were doing this. Not to punish me. Not really. To tame me.
I’d heard stories of how cowboys broke wild horses—how they would tie them up, isolate them, starve them, until the animal's spirit bent just enough to obey. That was what this was. Classic dominance training. And I was the beast
