The drug had finally worn off.
Her head was woozy but at least she could now sit upright with her back against the wooden wall.
Ten feet above her head, a neon strip light was now on, illuminating the stark whiteness of the walls of her cell.
Were they watching her?
She checked the walls and the door for hidden cameras, but there didn’t seem to be any. They were probably watching though.
They always watched. It was what they enjoyed.
She tried to swallow but couldn’t. Her throat was hoarse and sore from screaming. What a waste of time and energy. They were never going to respond.
Not yet.
A raging thirst ravaged her body. She needed to drink, and soon, otherwise she was going to die in this white room.
Perhaps they were listening?
‘I’m extremely thirsty. I need water, I feel like I’m dying,’ she said out loud, hearing a slight echo off the walls. ‘I’m extremely thirsty,’ she repeated.
No response.
Was she going to die here?
Not yet. Not until they were ready.
The door opened and a hand slid a tray into the room with a jug of water and a sandwich. Before she could move, the hand withdrew and the door was slammed shut.
They were listening.
She wasn’t going to die.
Not yet.