One week had passed since the door of the basement had been locked, but to Roxy, it felt like an endless century.
The physical deterioration of her body was catastrophic. She was entirely skeletal. The harsh, flickering green light from the monitors cast deep, terrifying shadows over her hollowed cheeks and sunken collarbones.
Her skin, once radiant with the heavy, intoxicating warmth of the mountain sun, had turned a sickly, sallow gray. Deep, agonizing purple bruises completely encircled her wrists and ankles where she had thrashed against the heavy steel chains.
She was drifting aimlessly in and out of consciousness, her mind a fractured, floating debris field.
The cold in the basement was sharp and biting. It seeped up through the concrete floorboards, curling around her bare legs and sinking directly into her marrow. She shivered uncontrollably, her teeth chattering so violently her jaw ached.
