Lucy was trapped.
It was dark and cold. She couldn't see. She shivered in her chains.
The chains!
Cold and metal. It didn't help her at all. She was trying to hang on, to her old life that she was so cruelly pried from. She couldn't think straight, all she knew was pain and darkness.
She had lost her keys, how long ago? She couldn't think right.
The cold was always present. Her toes sometimes went blue. The cold sometimes helped with the pain of everything, the gashes and welts and bruises. It was just as present as the cold.
She lay on her side of the frozen stone ground. When she had first gotten thrown in this hell hole, Lucy moved a lot. She paced and pounded on the walls, but now couldn't.
She had no energy anymore.
She could barely stand, and even if she could, her frozen toes would prevent her from even taking a step.
She could smell fresh blood, and she knew that one of her many injuries had split open.
Again.
She wished she could cry.
She wished she could yell for help.
She wished she could get out of here!
She wished she could feel the sun again.
She hadn't seen the sun in such a long time.
She missed the rays.
She tried to remember the warmth of the sun, but failed to.
She was too cold, and everything hurt so much.
She could hardly move, and she was so weak. She was starving as well. Even when her rough, dry, moldy bread was thrown at her, she couldn't move to pick it up.
The same with the dirty water she was so often tossed, but they didn't stop beating her senseless every day.
They used their fists, planks of woods, and hammers sometimes. How she longed to see her friends again, her family, but she was stuck here.
Her clothes were nothing more than tatters, just the remains of her old life.
She was so cold.
Lucy wished she could ball up, but she couldn't move.
All she is now, is broken.