Art of Torment: A Captive's Defiance

e dug into my skin, a constant, physical r

had almost tasted freedom, only to

at first; his silence was always

his voice a smooth vibration that set my teeth on e

ing, or that the fractured pieces of my destroyed

ith a defiant chin, "May

led, not the man who saw me only

from the day he broke my drawing han

on the mark, "You met with someone. You think there' s a

ing; he was right – I met Marcus Thorn

hope was just

t as monstrous and possessive as my captor, see

weeks before Alexander' s grand "Aion Project" launc

ulated play for freedom, was n

overing how deep