Chapter Nine
Dara
I am in hell. Though I live (for now) I can hardly imagine worse circumstances.
My gloating tormentors keep imagining and describing them for me. They talk of all the far off places on the other side of the world I might eventually be shipped to if I survive this basement. Pestilential sewers of brutal misogyny too ghastly to contemplate are what await me there. Yet how much worse could they really be than this place?
The smell of excrement surrounds me around the clock from the never-emptied bucket I’ve been given for a toilet. I subsist on scraps of putrid food and am so desperate for water I suck moisture no matter how vile from the gag so often crammed into my mouth. Tied out split wide and helpless I have no defense against the investigations of the rats that sc
