Anticipation

The crisp sound of a bell cuts through the stiff, yet pungent air. She tenses up in cruel anticipation, trapped in her Pavlonian nightmare. 

She has tried to keep track of time, but time itself has become elastic, if for no other purpose but to prolong her torture.

The cold stone walls seem to inch closer with each passing moment, becoming more oppressive, and the sterile steel she is bound to seems to mock her with its touch. She tries to seek solace in her memories, when touch was sensual and solitude invited, but cannot see beyond her betrayal and heartbreak.

A loud hissing sound issues from behind, and suddenly electricity is snaking throughout her and her steel bounds, and then everything is just pain and burning flesh.

It stops.

She can't help but wonder if it is her or agony that is his twisted inamorata.

The bell rings again.