Lost in the darkness of time, of thought, of pain, and of hate. Fear washes over her soul as she huddles closer to herself, if that was even posable. Her knees pressing hard against her bare chest. Her long arms wraping around her legs. Fingers locked wtihin themselves hidding in her thick wave of hair. She hides her face from her tormenters that watch her from the shadows, staying just out of the only light that shins over her back.

Cracks of the whips fell the air like blood in the waters. Pain, sweet deathly pain smears her body. she could feel the warmth of her own blood as it dances over her burning flesh down to the cold dark ground of stone.

The song of the whip is fallowed by the pleading crys of her voice in a painful scream. She will not beg, nor seek help, For she new it was her own fault. it was her own sins, her own thoughts that brought this pain to her.

The song of the whips crys against the cold air only to be warmed by her hot blood.

The cold feel of the room is reflected in her lost green gaze as the girl sits on the tree branch looking over at the swaying dance of the wheat in the feilds before her. The wind kissed her hot smooth back. Her lips parted faintly, and shivered as she could hear the cracking of the whip, Yet all the blood, all the tears, all the pain, was only within her heart's mind. Hidden by her wild green eyes.