99 words that speak quietly of a dark night
The night wasn’t there. The sleep wasn’t protecting me. The smooth-faced young warder was harvesting newly formed skin from my raw back; I was past screaming.
Working a hand loose I grabbed that distracted face as it concentrated on peeling my epidermis. Catching a finger through his large earring, he was incapacitated with the pain and I made it clear that I wanted out.
Staggering from weakness, hanging onto muscular shoulders, we moved awkwardly towards the brightness of our escape.
The alarm went off at the side of my bed and I shuddered myself out of the nightmare.