Her hands sought to be let out from the restraints, but she knew the more she resisted, the tighter they would become. The loss of blood in her body made it harder to focus on the words coming from his mouth. The sound vibrated in her eardrums in a hazy distance. A tear fell from her eye, and she held her breath as he took another step forward, his frame hovering over her as a murk shadow. He was the shadow of the devil but not bold enough to step into the light and make his appearance aware to all who would see him for who he truly was. His finger reached forward, caressing at her cheek, and she squirmed, pushing her head back from his touch. It felt like a disease on her skin, one that would spread without a cure. His deadly touch would leave imprints on her skin. The ones that never seemed to fade but remain as a reminder from the endless repetitive cycle of her anguish. From him.