Being tied down was unbearable for Sara. Her basic needs depended entirely on the will of the guard on duty, and that alone filled her with deep anguish.
She no longer bothered trying to free herself. She had tried many times, always in vain. The room remained in complete darkness, except for a faint ray of light filtering in through a small window near the ceiling.
Most of the time, she kept her eyes fixed in that direction, holding onto that tiny glimmer of light as if it were her last hope.
Every so often, the recording was played again—a mechanical voice repeating the same message over and over:
"Obedient. Quiet. Loyal. Submissive."
Those words began to seep into her thoughts like ink in water, darkening her mind little by little. But Sara fought to resist them. She was locked up. Restrained. Surrounded by darkness. Deprived of freedom. Reduced to nothing.
In that infernal castle, she was kept isolated, stripped even of her most basic dignity. And yet, she kept crying. She cried because she knew no one would come for her. She was alone.
Her family had died a year ago in a brutal accident. Since then, she had lived in an orphanage… until the day she was taken by that cursed agency.
Now, she was being brought to a room designed for a new kind of training. The goal was clear: to break her spirit, piece by piece. The room was filled with intimidating tools—chains, punishment devices, and relentless recordings designed to reshape her behavior.
Upon entering, her body trembled. She begged not to be forced into anything. Tears streamed down her face as she pleaded for mercy. But her captors ignored her again.
They placed a restrictive device on her and made her stay still for hours, as the voice echoed all around her:
"Your only purpose is to obey. You must bring emotional satisfaction. You must please. You may not speak without permission. Your body belongs to your future master."
Sara squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to listen, but the voice was everywhere.
—No… please… it's not true… —she whispered through tears.
Her resistance triggered harsher treatment. The device would deliver painful feedback, making her squirm in distress.
The cycle repeated itself: orders, corrections, punishments. Until, exhausted and weakened, Sara began to follow instructions automatically, her mind too numb to fight.
When the session ended, she was overwhelmed and nauseated. She could barely stand. The device was removed, and she was dragged to a bath of icy water, where she was submerged to "calm her nerves." Her head was pushed under and allowed to surface only for brief moments to gasp for air.
—No… stop… please… —she mumbled weakly, gasping each time she surfaced.
At last, she was taken out, forcefully dried, and returned to her cell. They tied her to the bed once again—this time without clothing—but covered her with a warm blanket to keep her from getting sick.
There was no rest. No peace. She had lost track of time.
Once again, the mechanical voice filled the room with its relentless commands:
"A perfect girl always obeys. A perfect girl never complains. A perfect girl lives to serve."
Sara, drained to the core, fell asleep crying in silence, feeling those words settle inside her like a shadow she couldn't shake.