Chapter 164

VOLUME 7: AVION

She'd kill for some color. She really would. Red, in particular, always seemed so vibrant, especially when wet.

She'd maim for some music. Tear off someone's arm and use it to tap a bloody beat.

Actually, no, she wouldn't resort to limb pulling. The screaming usually ruined her mood for music. She should note, though, that even if she drew the line at violent entertainment, she had reached the point she'd do anything to break the monotony of her existence.

Who could blame her?

The walls of her prison never changed. Dull metal all around, a lead compound with no conducting abilities, smooth as glass, impermeable to all attempts to gouge or scratch. It also blocked all attempts to call for help. Welcome to the perfect prison, a cell made especially for her. An actual hole buried hundreds of feet deep. A place no one could escape from, not even her.