The cold, unyielding stone wall pressed against my back, a familiar comfort in this abyss I called a room. Four years. 1,460 days of shadows, of silence broken only by the creak of a door that promised only pain. My eyes, accustomed to the perpetual gloom, could trace the faint outlines of the meager existence I was afforded: a thin cot, a cup, a slice of bread, and the 'torture board' where my body became a canvas for cruelty.

My only escape was within. I conjured images of the outside world, a vibrant tapestry of green grass, towering trees, and flowers perfuming the air, alive with the hum of bees and the flutter of butterflies. A world I could only touch in my mind.

A soft creak. The door. My heart, a withered thing, still lurched. “Hello, princess,” a voice drawled, shattering the fragile peace of my daydream. I sighed, a ghost of a sound, and moved towards the bed, settling into the position he preferred. The familiar dread coiled in my gut. Another session. Another reminder that I was nothing more than an animal, obedient out of fear, controlled, used. Another rape.