The raucous jeers and mocking taunts continue to wash over me in dizzying waves as the guards jostle and jostle my listless form between them. Part of me registers the vile, suggestive undercurrents laced into their braying—vague intimations of the fresh depravities they're practically salivating to inflict upon my battered husk.
But such lurid promises of violation elicit little more than a fleeting wrinkle of phantom disgust flitting across my soul's barren wasteland. In this yawning chasm of total negation, even the most profane atrocities are rendered hollow trivialities scarcely worth acknowledging, much less raging against.
That seeming indifference only fuels the tormentor's raucous bloodlust further. More hands descend to grope and tear at what tattered remnants still preserve my
