#infh

She'd thought herself used to the sounds of torture. They rang through the cobbled halls of Dol Guldur day and night. Screams were practically her lullabye - yet the sounds coming from the central chamber scared her. Even now as she strode toward the Overseer's [office], she fought the urge to cover her ears with her hands. The parchment crumpled in her white-knuckled fist. The walls have eyes, Neia reminded herself yet again. It didn't matter if she couldn't see anyone – she could feel eyes on her always, a cold prickle on the back of her neck. Her best behavior was second nature now, even if it didn't always spare her from punishment. The familiar crack of a whip, followed by an unfamiliar grunt, drew her gaze to the door. It shouldn't have piqued her interest. How many times had they been dragged through that door? How many times had she felt the whip, the chains, the branding iron? There were no secrets left for that room to spill. … until now.

INFH