Standing outside her cot, Barbara punched at the wooden base separating the top and bottom bunk. With her jaw clenched she practiced combo’s over and over, precipitating visible in just a cloth she ripped from her sheets to create a sort of sports bra instead of the ual that’s pleasing to lustful eyes the vampires had her wear. A long skirt covered her legs, leaving just her abdomen and bit up arms exposed. She continued punching the wood, grunting softly as her knuckles bruised and bled even with the wraps she had over them (from again a ripped up bed sheet). She held strong to that pain. A vampires face was much harder and she had to deal with any pain even if it meant dislocating her fingers. It was a ritual at this point, and so the slaves that needed to rest slept farther away and no one made comments. The wall was beginning to splinter and Barbara punched harder, hoping to break it. Wood would make an excellent spear head.
