Clink! A grunt rumbled when the bed screeched—a pathetic centimeter nudge. Despite onslaught yanks to liberty, the cuffs bear not even a fragmented indent.

Efforts—wasted. Freedom—a miles reach. What's left for her is energy deficiency. Why even try? Tugging metal against metal won't miraculously spur a key. No, not from these silver bands strapping her to the bed's railings.

When exhaustion limps overlapped arms, slumping the entirety of her back for peace isn't even in the question. Lying in contemplative silence has to be done with the searing churn radiating through her core. Grumbles of her stomach's ravenous beast initiated a pinching girth between chest-to-knees. Just to quell the volcanic heat rending her inside-out.

"You know, the food's right there," sprang cerulean eyes towards the standing figure, ayont the position of her feet. Oh right, you're still here. The little shit supervising her.

Line of sight trimming into slits, scrutiny rose once it locked at the metal tray. Idle at the nightstand, vegetables sheened with warm tints at its pockets. Harmless, if it weren't for the wafting... drug wrinkling her nose. Sniff, the fuck is that? Her food-deprived hallucination or...?

"It's pretty fucking useless to have food out when I'm—" sent a series of metallic jingles with futile tugs. "—stuck like this."

Yet, alloyed rattling you've pickpocketed displayed in the air jolted brows to rise. "Looks like you need this, huh?" The damn keys. No wonder Lottie's hooligans---

"...volunteer." Cue the pause. Not part of the staff crew. Scooting herself upwards, her hind's weight leaned on the headboard, as though it'd help absorb the information better. "You're a what, now?"

"I said I'm a volunteer, and—" "Why the fuck would you volunteer in this kind of place?" This cult?

"They said they were," twain digits folded air quotations, "'well-intentioned,' and I have to do community service, forcibly."

Bolting free fled her mind, keys ignored. All in thought is: "Kid, what kind of shit did you do?"