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Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

*Your point of view*

When I woke up, I was to tired to even think about the fact that I'd woken up at all. My only thought was to figure out where I was, because I had no memory of being taken out of the forest. Somehow, I managed to force myself into a sitting position, and a looked around tiredly. The first thing I noticed was that I was in a room with white walls, and that the sheets of the bed I was lying in were also white. I continued to look around the room to try and map it out in my head, I caught sight of a full body mirror- it was only a few feet away from the bed, and it was facing me. I was appalled at what I saw staring back at me. I knew that I was looking at my own reflection, but my mind refused to accept that fact- because the person I was looking at couldn't possibly have been me. My face saw sunken in, and there were dark rings under my eyes. I was disturbingly pale and looked ready to keel over and die at the drop of a hat. My eyes- my once beautiful, shimmering, (E/C) eyes. They were dull and lifeless- I may have well have been looking into the eyes or a corpse. I bit back tears as I continued to stare at my reflection. If my face looked that bad, then what did the rest of me look like? I hesitantly pushed the covers off of me and immediately noticed that I wasn't wearing my clothes- the ones that I'd been forced to wear nonstop for over two months. Instead, I was wearing a set of gray pajamas that happened to be way to big for me. I was so small in them that I may as well of been trying to wear a circus tent. Since I was so weak, it took me a while to get all the way out from under the covers and face the mirror, and once I did I tried to move the pajamas so that I could see the rest of my body.

It was actually a lot more difficult to get out of the clothes than one would have thought. Namely because the pajama top was long sleeved, and buttoned up- not to mention that the bottom of the top went all the way down to my knees. I had to unbutton it in order to get out of it, and thanks to my weak fingers I fumbled with the buttons constantly before actually managing to undo them. In the end it must have taken me well over half an hour to undo ten buttons- ten large, black buttons. When I finally had the top open, I tugged at it to slip it off my shoulders without removing my arms from the sleeves- then I felt tears welling in my eyes. The person I saw in the mirror, couldn't have possibly been alive. I could count my ribs, and I sank in a bit around the abdomen. Oh god, my abdomen! My stomach was covered in cuts from where the smiling man had dragged his knife over my skin- whats worse, it itched. I wanted to scratch my stomach, but I knew that if I did I'd start bleeding everywhere. I forced myself out of the bed and stumbled over to the mirror to press my hand against the glass- I wasn't surprised when the pajama pants fell to my ankles. I stood naked in front of the mirror and stared at my ruined body. I was skin and bones- not as bad as some people who starved to death, but I could tell that I was starving. My skin was so raw- there had been a rash around my breasts and crotch because my clothes had been so dirty. I was pale as a corpse and looked like a meth addict- except my face wasn't covered in sores. I opened my mouth to look at my teeth, because I thought they might of rotted out of my gums. There is no describing how relieved I was to find that I still had all my teeth- but that wasn't enough to keep me from sobbing.

Being alive. Waking up in a strange room. Seeing how awful I looked. Everything I was going through and seeing was driving me into a corner and beating the life out of me. I didn't know why I was alive or why that man had spared me. Had I seemed so pathetic to him that he didn't see the point in ending my life? Had he decided that I wasn't worth killing because I was already so close to death? Was I so fucked up that he'd brought me home with him and decided to try and fix me? WHY?! I had no home. My parents still had my birth certificate and social security- I couldn't get a job or anything without those! I had nowhere to go and no means of supporting myself! So why didn't he kill me?! I fell to my hands and knees and sobbed naked in front of the mirror. My body hurt all over because of hunger and the scabs. My eyes burned from the tears. I felt so weak I was surprised that I hadn't just dropped dead. I pressed my forehead against the wooden floor and screamed- but since I'd used my voice so little the past two months, I barely made a sound.

“Tch, you wanted to sleep that badly?” I heard a semi-familiar male voice sound off from behind me, and I lifted my head to turn around. I was half surprised to find the smiling, wide eyed man that had wanted to kill me standing in the doorway. How stupid of me, I shouldn't have been surprised at all- this was obviously his house. Who else knew about my being in the forest? No one. If someone else had found me I'd of been taken to a hospital, not to someones bedroom. He'd tried to kill me after all- he couldn't afford to let me tell anyone about him. He glared at me and sneered.

“For fucks sake woman, put your clothes back on! You look like shit!” The man spat at me- he sounded pretty pissed off. It still bothered me though, him talking to me like that. I already knew that I looked terrible, he didn't need to rub it in my face and act as if I wanted to look the way I did. I tried to stop my tears as I sat up and made a move to the pajama top, but I couldn't work the buttons at all. So I pulled the top closed and held it with one hand while I attempted to stand up, but my legs were to weak- I was to weak. I only made it a little off the floor before I fell down, and despite the fall being so short it sent a surge of pain through my tired legs. I couldn't repress my sobs and I wound up bursting into tears right in front of the man that had tried to kill me- the man who had decided that a near death woman wasn't worth murdering. Because of my sobbing I didn't notice that he'd walked over to me- I didn't even know he was near me until he yanked me to my feet by my arm and shoved me back onto the bed. Before I could utter a sound he clamped his hand around my throat and began to choke me. For a split second- maybe not even that- I felt the urge to try and kick him off of me. Not because I was afraid, but because it hurt. What he'd done has send a fresh surge of pain throughout my entire frame- my body screamed at me to kick him off and end it all, to end the agony he was forcing upon me. But I couldn't. I was to messed up from my upbringing- I didn't know how to fight back. All I could do was fall limp and stare at him as he threatened to smother me with his grip. I watched him intently as he stared down at me- he cocked his head from side to side once in a while as if studying me.

Then, as spontaneously as his assault started, it ended. He removed his hand from around my throat and proceeded to pry my pajama top open to examine my frail body. I remained still as his gaze fell over my exposed skin, though I was unable to prevent tears. He was looking at my privates- not to be a pervert but to examine the disgusting rash that had formed due to wearing the same undergarments for two months straight. He trailed the hand that had been on my throat down my chest, and he brushed his thumb across the patch of red skin between the bottom of my breasts. I gasped and flinched beneath the contact- it stung, a lot. He pulled his hand back and climbed atop the bed to loom over me- one of his knees went between my legs and he pinned my left one down with his weight. Slowly- as if he was trying to provoke a reaction from me- he took my wrists in his hands and pinned them above my head. Then he just kept staring at me- and I realized why his eyes were so wide. He couldn't blink- his eyelids were gone, and what was left of them barely moved enough to let him squint. He cocked his head again when I didn't move, or give any reaction to him climbing on top of me and pinning me down.

“Your not afraid... Why?...” He asked me curiously, almost as if my behavior was confusing him. Well, that didn't actually surprise me- normal people don't stare Death in the face and ask for him to claim them.

“And here I thought you had standards.” Another male voice sounded off before I had the chance to give the smiling man a response. In the blink of an eye- according to my standards considering he couldn't blink- he jumped off of me and did his best to regain his composure. Apparently he'd been startled by the unexpected appearance of another person. I don't exactly know why, but for some reason I had no urge to find out just who this mystery man was- so I just lied there, completely motionless on the bed as I heard him step further into the room. I didn't bother to try and look in the newcomers direction until I spotted them out of the corner of my eye. All I spotted though was a blue mask with huge black eye-holes that seemed to be leaking tar. Well, that and a black hoody- he had his hood up. Alright, was it just me, or did everyone living in the house wear a hoody? Because thus far, everyone I'd met was wearing one. I stayed perfectly still even as the masked man climbed on top of the bed and sat next to me, and he cocked his head to the side as if he was examining me. Alright, seriously, I knew I was weird but I wasn't that weird. They didn't need to study me like I was some kind of science experiment.

“Hmm, well, she's awake- that's a start...” He said calmly as he lifted a hand to set it on my forehead. He pushes some of my (H/C) hair out of my face to get a clearer view of my eyes, and he cocked his head to the other side.

“She's got a bit of a fever, but nothing to serious it seems...” He said as he continued his little examination of me, before he suddenly turned his head to eye the smiling man.

“So, Jeff, have you made a move to get any information out of our... Guest?” The masked man asked in a somewhat hesitant manner, earning a scoff from, um, Jeff. The person in question crossed his arms in front of his chest and rolled his unblinking eyes.

“No, I haven't.” Jeff said bluntly, before he sat next to me on the bed and glared as his, friend? Honestly, I was starting to feel even more tired- not to mention annoyed. They were talking about me as if I wasn't even there, so you can bet your ass it was pissing me off. I seriously wanted to complain about their behavior, but before I could the masked man moved his other hand to my chest to feel the skin effected by the rash. I hissed at the contact and bit back a few tears- I don't know why the rash made me so sensitive to touch, but I knew I wanted to make him stop touching me.

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?” The masked man asked calmly as he continued to press on my skin. He felt around my ribs and down my abdomen, my arms and legs- he was completely unaffected by the fact that I was naked in front of him. My pajama pants were still on the floor and only my arms were covered by the top- so when he touched me he really touched me. To make matters worse, no matter how soft or how firm his touch was, it hurt like hell. Man, my body was really messed up.

“T-ten!...” I whined as he pressed down on a particularly sensitive spot on my right side, before he suddenly got off of the bed and headed towards the door.

“Wait here a moment, I need to get a few things... Jeff, once I'm back we'll start interrogating.” The masked man said before he walked out of the room, leaving me alone with Jeff once more- not to mention leaving me pondering his choice of words. What did he mean “Interrogate”? That's a phrase you use for getting information out of a criminal- not for asking your guest a few questions. Well, I wasn't exactly a guest- I was a prisoner, but still. Those few minutes it took the masked man to come back were spent in complete silence, but when he returned, he had a few things I wasn't to thrilled to see. A syringe full of a strange blue fluid. A clipboard and a pen. I brown bottle of chloroform and a rag- and last but not least, a piece of elastic...

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

*Your point of view*

When I woke up, I was to tired to even think about the fact that I'd woken up at all. My only thought was to figure out where I was, because I had no memory of being taken out of the forest. Somehow, I managed to force myself into a sitting position, and a looked around tiredly. The first thing I noticed was that I was in a room with white walls, and that the sheets of the bed I was lying in were also white. I continued to look around the room to try and map it out in my head, I caught sight of a full body mirror- it was only a few feet away from the bed, and it was facing me. I was appalled at what I saw staring back at me. I knew that I was looking at my own reflection, but my mind refused to accept that fact- because the person I was looking at couldn't possibly have been me. My face saw sunken in, and there were dark rings under my eyes. I was disturbingly pale and looked ready to keel over and die at the drop of a hat. My eyes- my once beautiful, shimmering, (E/C) eyes. They were dull and lifeless- I may have well have been looking into the eyes or a corpse. I bit back tears as I continued to stare at my reflection. If my face looked that bad, then what did the rest of me look like? I hesitantly pushed the covers off of me and immediately noticed that I wasn't wearing my clothes- the ones that I'd been forced to wear nonstop for over two months. Instead, I was wearing a set of gray pajamas that happened to be way to big for me. I was so small in them that I may as well of been trying to wear a circus tent. Since I was so weak, it took me a while to get all the way out from under the covers and face the mirror, and once I did I tried to move the pajamas so that I could see the rest of my body.

It was actually a lot more difficult to get out of the clothes than one would have thought. Namely because the pajama top was long sleeved, and buttoned up- not to mention that the bottom of the top went all the way down to my knees. I had to unbutton it in order to get out of it, and thanks to my weak fingers I fumbled with the buttons constantly before actually managing to undo them. In the end it must have taken me well over half an hour to undo ten buttons- ten large, black buttons. When I finally had the top open, I tugged at it to slip it off my shoulders without removing my arms from the sleeves- then I felt tears welling in my eyes. The person I saw in the mirror, couldn't have possibly been alive. I could count my ribs, and I sank in a bit around the abdomen. Oh god, my abdomen! My stomach was covered in cuts from where the smiling man had dragged his knife over my skin- whats worse, it itched. I wanted to scratch my stomach, but I knew that if I did I'd start bleeding everywhere. I forced myself out of the bed and stumbled over to the mirror to press my hand against the glass- I wasn't surprised when the pajama pants fell to my ankles. I stood naked in front of the mirror and stared at my ruined body. I was skin and bones- not as bad as some people who starved to death, but I could tell that I was starving. My skin was so raw- there had been a rash around my breasts and crotch because my clothes had been so dirty. I was pale as a corpse and looked like a meth addict- except my face wasn't covered in sores. I opened my mouth to look at my teeth, because I thought they might of rotted out of my gums. There is no describing how relieved I was to find that I still had all my teeth- but that wasn't enough to keep me from sobbing.

Being alive. Waking up in a strange room. Seeing how awful I looked. Everything I was going through and seeing was driving me into a corner and beating the life out of me. I didn't know why I was alive or why that man had spared me. Had I seemed so pathetic to him that he didn't see the point in ending my life? Had he decided that I wasn't worth killing because I was already so close to death? Was I so fucked up that he'd brought me home with him and decided to try and fix me? WHY?! I had no home. My parents still had my birth certificate and social security- I couldn't get a job or anything without those! I had nowhere to go and no means of supporting myself! So why didn't he kill me?! I fell to my hands and knees and sobbed naked in front of the mirror. My body hurt all over because of hunger and the scabs. My eyes burned from the tears. I felt so weak I was surprised that I hadn't just dropped dead. I pressed my forehead against the wooden floor and screamed- but since I'd used my voice so little the past two months, I barely made a sound.

“Tch, you wanted to sleep that badly?” I heard a semi-familiar male voice sound off from behind me, and I lifted my head to turn around. I was half surprised to find the smiling, wide eyed man that had wanted to kill me standing in the doorway. How stupid of me, I shouldn't have been surprised at all- this was obviously his house. Who else knew about my being in the forest? No one. If someone else had found me I'd of been taken to a hospital, not to someones bedroom. He'd tried to kill me after all- he couldn't afford to let me tell anyone about him. He glared at me and sneered.

“For fucks sake woman, put your clothes back on! You look like shit!” The man spat at me- he sounded pretty pissed off. It still bothered me though, him talking to me like that. I already knew that I looked terrible, he didn't need to rub it in my face and act as if I wanted to look the way I did. I tried to stop my tears as I sat up and made a move to the pajama top, but I couldn't work the buttons at all. So I pulled the top closed and held it with one hand while I attempted to stand up, but my legs were to weak- I was to weak. I only made it a little off the floor before I fell down, and despite the fall being so short it sent a surge of pain through my tired legs. I couldn't repress my sobs and I wound up bursting into tears right in front of the man that had tried to kill me- the man who had decided that a near death woman wasn't worth murdering. Because of my sobbing I didn't notice that he'd walked over to me- I didn't even know he was near me until he yanked me to my feet by my arm and shoved me back onto the bed. Before I could utter a sound he clamped his hand around my throat and began to choke me. For a split second- maybe not even that- I felt the urge to try and kick him off of me. Not because I was afraid, but because it hurt. What he'd done has send a fresh surge of pain throughout my entire frame- my body screamed at me to kick him off and end it all, to end the agony he was forcing upon me. But I couldn't. I was to messed up from my upbringing- I didn't know how to fight back. All I could do was fall limp and stare at him as he threatened to smother me with his grip. I watched him intently as he stared down at me- he cocked his head from side to side once in a while as if studying me.

Then, as spontaneously as his assault started, it ended. He removed his hand from around my throat and proceeded to pry my pajama top open to examine my frail body. I remained still as his gaze fell over my exposed skin, though I was unable to prevent tears. He was looking at my privates- not to be a pervert but to examine the disgusting rash that had formed due to wearing the same undergarments for two months straight. He trailed the hand that had been on my throat down my chest, and he brushed his thumb across the patch of red skin between the bottom of my breasts. I gasped and flinched beneath the contact- it stung, a lot. He pulled his hand back and climbed atop the bed to loom over me- one of his knees went between my legs and he pinned my left one down with his weight. Slowly- as if he was trying to provoke a reaction from me- he took my wrists in his hands and pinned them above my head. Then he just kept staring at me- and I realized why his eyes were so wide. He couldn't blink- his eyelids were gone, and what was left of them barely moved enough to let him squint. He cocked his head again when I didn't move, or give any reaction to him climbing on top of me and pinning me down.

“Your not afraid... Why?...” He asked me curiously, almost as if my behavior was confusing him. Well, that didn't actually surprise me- normal people don't stare Death in the face and ask for him to claim them.

“And here I thought you had standards.” Another male voice sounded off before I had the chance to give the smiling man a response. In the blink of an eye- according to my standards considering he couldn't blink- he jumped off of me and did his best to regain his composure. Apparently he'd been startled by the unexpected appearance of another person. I don't exactly know why, but for some reason I had no urge to find out just who this mystery man was- so I just lied there, completely motionless on the bed as I heard him step further into the room. I didn't bother to try and look in the newcomers direction until I spotted them out of the corner of my eye. All I spotted though was a blue mask with huge black eye-holes that seemed to be leaking tar. Well, that and a black hoody- he had his hood up. Alright, was it just me, or did everyone living in the house wear a hoody? Because thus far, everyone I'd met was wearing one. I stayed perfectly still even as the masked man climbed on top of the bed and sat next to me, and he cocked his head to the side as if he was examining me. Alright, seriously, I knew I was weird but I wasn't that weird. They didn't need to study me like I was some kind of science experiment.

“Hmm, well, she's awake- that's a start...” He said calmly as he lifted a hand to set it on my forehead. He pushes some of my (H/C) hair out of my face to get a clearer view of my eyes, and he cocked his head to the other side.

“She's got a bit of a fever, but nothing to serious it seems...” He said as he continued his little examination of me, before he suddenly turned his head to eye the smiling man.

“So, Jeff, have you made a move to get any information out of our... Guest?” The masked man asked in a somewhat hesitant manner, earning a scoff from, um, Jeff. The person in question crossed his arms in front of his chest and rolled his unblinking eyes.

“No, I haven't.” Jeff said bluntly, before he sat next to me on the bed and glared as his, friend? Honestly, I was starting to feel even more tired- not to mention annoyed. They were talking about me as if I wasn't even there, so you can bet your ass it was pissing me off. I seriously wanted to complain about their behavior, but before I could the masked man moved his other hand to my chest to feel the skin effected by the rash. I hissed at the contact and bit back a few tears- I don't know why the rash made me so sensitive to touch, but I knew I wanted to make him stop touching me.

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?” The masked man asked calmly as he continued to press on my skin. He felt around my ribs and down my abdomen, my arms and legs- he was completely unaffected by the fact that I was naked in front of him. My pajama pants were still on the floor and only my arms were covered by the top- so when he touched me he really touched me. To make matters worse, no matter how soft or how firm his touch was, it hurt like hell. Man, my body was really messed up.

“T-ten!...” I whined as he pressed down on a particularly sensitive spot on my right side, before he suddenly got off of the bed and headed towards the door.

“Wait here a moment, I need to get a few things... Jeff, once I'm back we'll start interrogating.” The masked man said before he walked out of the room, leaving me alone with Jeff once more- not to mention leaving me pondering his choice of words. What did he mean “Interrogate”? That's a phrase you use for getting information out of a criminal- not for asking your guest a few questions. Well, I wasn't exactly a guest- I was a prisoner, but still. Those few minutes it took the masked man to come back were spent in complete silence, but when he returned, he had a few things I wasn't to thrilled to see. A syringe full of a strange blue fluid. A clipboard and a pen. I brown bottle of chloroform and a rag- and last but not least, a piece of elastic...