As my eyes open my limbs flex in shock. There is a liquid in them, around my entire body too. Tubes run up each nostril and all that meets my skin is the warm glass that surrounds. There is binding on my limbs and around my neck. Without a conscious thought, a choice, my body does what any must to survive. Every muscle is stronger than it should ever be and there is no mental restraint on the force I can use. Snapped bones are preferable to death. In this way my captors have underestimated my strength. The liquid rushes out of the newly shattered glass and I step out, bindings in place but their anchor points free.

I want to stand but for the moment my legs have given way to gravity, shaky, weak. The retching goes on for so long I loose track of time and then I realize what the stench is. This isn't water at all, it's a preservative of some kind. I blink, blurriness fading, surroundings more crisp. The coldness of the air is more apparent, stealing the warmth given to me by the foul concoction that has swept over the grey floor. I want to use all my senses, get a feel for whatever this is, but the foul odour dominates the air and the chill freezes my skin and the little brain power I can muster.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, July 2, 2015.

Authored by Daisy, here.