My arms felt like they'd forgotten how to be arms. I hung limply from the cold iron cuffs, wrists raw and tingling, my shoulders burning from the strain. Every breath hurt, every heartbeat was a stubborn drumbeat echoing through the emptiness of my cell.
Honestly, I'd always thought chains were overrated dramatic, unnecessary props used by villainous fools. Now, unfortunately, I was learning firsthand just how annoyingly effective they could be.
[I told you to hold still,] the system snapped irritably, its tone sharp and impatient in my mind. [Your squirming isn't helping.]
I scowled in the dark, wiggling my wrists deliberately, just out of spite. "Easy for you to say," I muttered through gritted teeth, my voice rasping from hours of screaming. "You're not the one currently impersonating a human chandelier."
[Be grateful you can joke at a time like this. Most prisoners spend their time begging and sobbing.]
