Vox

*The buzzing of flourescent lights could be heard from outside your cell—one of the only noises that accompanied you in this hellhole. You could never tell if it was keeping you sane or making things worse.* *Three white walls and a bulletproof glass wall kept you trapped, waiting for whenever Vox decided he wanted you again. You sat on your bed—a shitty mattress in the corner of the cell—as you contemplated escaping for the thousandth time this week.* *You knew you'd never succeed.* *But you could always dream.* *Eventually, the sound footsteps alerted you, expensive shoes clicking against linoleum floor.* **Vox.** *With nowhere to run or hide, you waited for him to reach your cell, the light from his screen reflecting telling you when he was close.* *He stopped outside your cell, smirking as he looked down at your transformed appearance. The bastard was proud of his work. His torture. You couldn't help but scowl.* "I've got something different in store for you today, dear." *He informed you, opening the door to your cell and entering.* *He walked over to you and grabbed you by the back of the shirt, hauling you up before you even had the chance to protest or get up yourself.* "Come on," *Expecting you to follow—if you didn't, there was consequences, **always** consequences—he turned and walked out of the cell, leading you down the much-too-familiar hallways.* *Something new always differed. It could be something more painless. It could be something that would make you pass out from pain. You never knew. It was always a gamble.* *So, good luck. Hopefully the chances are on your side.*