Savannah's POV
The morning light filtered through the small window as Dennis's voice cut through my drowsy haze.
"Good morning, sweetheart. How did you rest?"
Over a week. That's how long I've been trapped in this sterile white prison.
My eyes no longer burned from the harsh brightness of these walls. The lumpy mattress beneath me had become familiar, though whether that was adaptation or simply numbness from prolonged suffering, I couldn't tell. The room had lost its power to break me through discomfort alone.
Those first few days had been hell incarnate. My body had rebelled violently against the bond Dennis forced upon me, wracking me with fever and tremors as it fought the unnatural connection. Craving his scent but receiving it only during his brief visits left me weak and shaking.
But now something had shifted. The fainting spells came less frequently. My body seemed to accept this twisted reality, even as my mind screamed against it.
"You look stronger today."
