nate lazarus ☠ will turner (eunuchy) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2012-01-26 14:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | ava prince, sara taft |
Who. Sara Taft and Ava Prince
What. An unsettling glimpse into Sara and Ava's time as prisoners
Where. A Resistance holdings cell in an undisclosed location
When. Thursday night, January 26th 2012
Warnings. PG-13 to R, just to be safe
Sara had lost track of the number of days she'd been here long before now. She'd even lost track of the time of day, since there were no windows where they'd put her. The only light she ever saw in her cell was the artificial brightness of the overhead lamp they sometimes shined in her face when they came in the middle of the night to question her. It was always only at night. During the day the hours stretched into endlessly excruciating moments where all she could do to occupy herself was think. Think about Camelot. Peter. Her father. At first, her thoughts were fully formed and full of emotion. Anger on Camelot's behalf, that these were the sort of low life's they dealt with. Worry for Peter, and what stupid things he might try to do now that she was the one in a cage. And then that sharp, deeply embedded fear that if her father was still alive out there somewhere, she'd never see him again now, because there was no way she was leaving this place alive. These thoughts were slowly driving her mad.
After a few weeks of daily late night interrogations and the various instruments of pain that inevitably came with them, very little sleep and complete isolation apart from her captors and Ava in the cell next to hers, Sara's thoughts became disjointed. Incomplete. Sometimes she could swear the thoughts that crossed her already mangled mind weren't even hers, they were someone else's. Some stranger putting thoughts and ideas in her head that made no sense to her, and yet she had no choice but to accept them as truth. After awhile even the words that came out of her mouth no longer had any real impact, there was no feeling behind them. Just cold logic. Everything about her was cold, especially her skin, since there was never anything to keep her from freezing at night but the thin blanket full of holes that they'd thrown in between the bars after a week or so.
It was already into the late hours on this particular Thursday night, though Sara had no idea it was a Thursday, or even that it was after midnight. All she knew was that she was huddled in the same corner that she twisted herself into every night, for whatever reason the less rational parts of her brain latching onto this one corner of the room where she felt safe until they came for her. Sometimes she and Ava talked through the wall to each other, hissing words of encouragement before they both had to endure hearing the other scream for hours. And sometimes they just sat in mutual silence, waiting for the inevitable. Tonight Sara wasn't sure she could muster up a few words even if she wanted to, the drugs the Resistance had been injecting her with over the last few days had left her so worn out even lifting her head up was a struggle. When her ears suddenly picked up a far off sound, her entire body tensed, waiting for the pain to start, but no one came. Apparently it wasn't time yet. She heaved a shudder of relief into the darkness before drawing her knees to her chest and dropping her head to rest on them.
Somewhere a clock was ticking.