Chapter Three: Bath Time... Apparently

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Chapter Three: Bath Time... Apparently

The next week and a half dragged slower than I would have thought possible. Danna treated me well enough that I remained painfully alive (I say painfully because he wasn't kind enough to refrain from taking his anger out on me- he was rather impatient, you know), giving me barely a mouthful of water a day, holding my nose and pouring it in my mouth should I refuse to cooperate. Despite this, that same plate of food still sat in front of me day after day, making me even more disgusted with both myself and my captor. It had begun to grow a whitish- grey mould, and yet, my stomach still ached and my mouth still watered at the sight of it. It was sickening how low he had made me sink, as was the constant rattling of my thorax and churning of my digestive organs.

            My arms and legs were more or less permanently numb from being sat in the same spot, in the same place for God-only-knew how long. I occasionally shuffled a small amount, but not much because it pulled my arms painfully, and then that was it for movement. My clothes were frayed and graying with dirt and my hair growing ever more matted and unkempt. My skin was sallow from lack of light and bruised where Danna would strike me in response to my smart mouth. I still couldn’t seem to help my retorts, however; earning me many more bruises and cuts.

            I could feel my arms and legs weakening, and though my body didn’t seem much skinnier than it was when I first arrived, I knew it was only a matter of time. I didn’t struggle against my chains anymore. I barely managed to glare up at Danna every time he entered the room. I just didn’t have the energy.

            Satisfied that I had given Danna a long enough glare, I dropped my gaze to the floor, only for it to snap back up as I heard the click! of the lock of my shackles. I somehow managed to sit bolt upright, unable to feel the thick metal drop from my wrists due to my numbness but knowing that it had.

            “Stand up.” Danna ordered, and I weakly scrambled to my feet. I gazed at the red-haired man balefully.

            “What’s going on?” I demanded, my voice infuriatingly breathy and hoarse from going more or less unused- instead of strong like I wanted. As usual, Danna merely looked amused at my attempts to be forceful with such a frail visage.

            He gave a smirk, before giving the towel he held in his hand a slight flourish. He then spoke, in a tone that held a mix of mockery and condescension, “Bath time.”

            If I had thought that I had despised him before, that was nothing compared to now. I glared intensely at him, “What the Hell do you mean by that?!”

            “I mean what I said. Now hurry up.” I had quickly learned that Danna hated to wait- for anything- and frequently heard him growling to himself about it when he returned from one of his excursions. Bearing that in mind, I started to walk, but he pushed me along anyway, irritated by my slow pace. He closed the door of the small side room we were in and it gave a metallic click. I sighed; of course he wouldn’t leave it unlocked. Not that I could get past him anyway.

            Without warning, my knees buckled, and my body sagged forward. I didn’t have the energy to support myself, and Danna just watched me crumple into the tile work with a look of irritation. Panic set in as my body refused to move, and- though I hated to admit it- fear. I feared what Danna would do to me if I was no longer capable of serving any purpose. I feared death.

            A bad way for a shinobi to think, I know. We were surrounded by death, every mission was a risk to us. I had nothing to live for now that I was mostly a hollow shell of my former self. Nothing to live for but life itself. I loved just living. And I didn’t want anyone to take that away from me.

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