Noctisardor Bypass [r] fevered

Indra sucks in the dust of the cave and turns her head, one way, the other, writhing. Above her is the one eye and it glows like a streelight, swirling and lurid with fairground illuminations. An unwashed beast of a man: a shag with a lopsided grin.
The girl can barely breathe let alone call out to her mother. The filthy man is pressing against her ribs. He doesn't labour much over her puny quaking body. She's gritting her teeth. He's laughing.
The girl lets out a sob while the man talks. She pulls herself as far away from the fetid breath that unfurls from his lips. Indra opens her mouth to plead with him, or to beg for her mother; her mother who is right there and she's staring just like the man.
And then a tug, and Indra feels herself being dragged back. Her eyes widen like saucers. Reaching feebly to rake the earth. She can't even get enough air in her lungs to scream but the look upon her face telegraphs as much.