One Hundred Days
Rating M (R)
Day 2
The cell's door opening woke him from his delve into unconsciousness, but the hard metal ringing in his ears was not enough to save him from his stupor.
There were shuffling feet, the crackling of chains, then silence.
The same noise occurred a half hour later. This time, the movement was enough to bring him to a sense of full consciousness.
He was still face down on the floor when he cracked open his golden eyes. They came into focus quickly. It was late morning, the sun streaming through the small porthole.
Slowly and unsteadily, he pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning against the iron bars for support. He rubbed his head softly, caked blood flaked off in his hand.
His breath caught in his throat, a gasp of pain escaped his lips as he clutched his side. Dark purple bruises were forming along his ribcage, ghastly against his porcelain skin.
He looked over to the corner, where the cell's other occupant lay huddled against the wall. Her blue eyes stared off into the distance, her arms wrapped around her legs as she shook.
He remembered those blue eyes, full of resolve, during the pirate fiasco. Now those blue eyes were tinged grey, a dead color of hopelessness.
A drab, shredded brown blanket was wrapped around her shoulders, but he could see her clothes were disheveled, ripped, and that bruises had darkened up and down her arms, and under her left eye.
She said nothing, she did not look at him.
Turning away, he did the same.