Art of Torment: A Captive's Defiance

The cold, sharp edges of the resin necklace dug into my skin, a constant, physical reminder of Alexander Vance' s twisted grasp.

Just hours ago, I, Scarlett Hayes, had almost tasted freedom, only to be dragged back to this gilded cage.

He didn't yell, he never did, not at first; his silence was always more terrifying than any scream.

"Why do you keep trying to leave?" he would ask, his voice a smooth vibration that set my teeth on edge, entirely oblivious to the torment he inflicted.