She sits there, naked, staring at the wall. Her hair is stringy around her face, covering her eyes. They approach cautiously: she has already taken off two fingers of two guards. Each. She didn't mean to, it was just the urge….the urge to bite, to wrench it off, to lock her teeth on it and scream until the visions stopped.
But the thoughts kept bouncing around her head like pinballs, flying arrows that never finding their mark. It made her sick, which made her angry, which made her a terrible prisoner.