The Briarwood Girl (2)

Hektor's mocking laughter followed me down the corridor. "Oh, you poor, stupid girl. I already have."

The days that followed blurred together in a haze of darkness and despair. The dungeon was damp and cold, the meager food barely enough to keep me alive. I lost track of time, my only company the occasional skittering of rats and the distant echoes of other prisoners.

I replayed every moment in my mind, trying to understand where I had gone wrong. Had I been too trusting? Too naive? The idealism that had driven me seemed like a childish fantasy now, crushed under the weight of Hektor's cruelty and my own powerlessness.

I couldn't help but mutter under my breath as I sat in the dank, miserable cell that had become my home. "That stupid old fart, Hektor! I swear, if I get my hands on him, I'll wring his greasy neck! And his son, that creepy, slimy pervert—thinking he can swoon girls with those leering eyes of his. Ugh, he gives me chills just thinking about it!"