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... ause we force it to."

–– Elliot Starfall

I sit in a cell. For weeks, I have been swallowed by complete darkness. My fingers, drained of warmth and circulation, are only visible when I hold them mere inches from my face. My clothes were stripped from me the first day. Merchandise is merchandise. Pigs don't wear trousers. That's what the blue-skinned one kept saying. His stench—stale breath, rotting gums—clings to my senses like a curse. I want to spit, but my saliva is thick, clin ...

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