She continued to futilely struggle against her bonds. Her pinned limbs flailing about hopelessly in an attempt to grasp something, anything, that would help her to evade the fate planned for her by those who would wish her ill.

The headboard was whipped relentlessly with her sable locks as her shuttered eyes leaked rivers of pain and fear. She screamed hopelessly and raged against them and all their kind. She relentlessly cried out against any and all of the gods she could imagine.

For hours she thrashed, moaning curses at those who held her captive against her will, never relinquishing the death grip she had on her last shreds of sanity, or so she thought. Finally she surrendered to exhaustion and slumped in uneasy slumber, only to find that there was no release in dreams. They came there too, haunting the dark corners of her mind and invading the pleasant scenes of happier times.

She woke, her throat raw from withheld screams of terror and agony. Drenched in sweat, her chest heaved as she struggled to regain her stolen breath. She tried to cover her face with her skeletal hands, only to find that they were still secured to the unforgiving headboard. She hung her head and wept tears of despair as she sank into the sterile sheets of her prison.

She stared at the unrelenting picture in the two-way mirror that hid them from her view. She knew they were watching her. They always were.

A silvered portal in the far wall opened and admitted one of them. Her captors.

"Are you ready for your meds, Ms. Jackson?"