Lone Star Mountain you are not the sound of cannons breaking the sky open

Back dated to roughly a week after her capture. @Iliksis

The subsequent days in captivity are a blur. Lucidity comes and goes through, unaware of how many days it’s been. Her captor, twice a day, brings her something to eat and by result, she spends the next several hours in a daze, or sleeping, and unable to put up much of a fight (not that she likely would anymore, anyway). The opiates help with the pain but it does not always keep up, the vacant spaces in her head causing her the most strife, the frequent headaches from dehydration, but she can do little to aid herself when they prevent her from doing anything without their watchful eye.
 
Ocra groans, shifting her weight a little as her mind pulls from a long sleep. Sometimes she knows she’s alone but her body won’t move in the way she wants it to in order to try and escape. Her brief times of consistent lucidity follow another meal, another sedative. Not eating it reaps punishment—torn flesh upon her muzzle, her ear, anywhere he chooses to bite to prove a point, forcing her to do what he wants and keep her docile. But as she stirs a little more, she doesn’t feel or hear or smell the presence of another. It is likely one of them isn’t very far off but she slowly works, stretching her limbs until she can begin to shuffle upward and attempt to sit up.
 
The longer she is awake, the more aware of the pain she is; the monster has not given her anything else but her poisoned meals, has not attempt to clean her up or treat her wounds. She has learned he does not care about anything than deriving some sick pleasure from her—she will die like this and he will move on, leaving her to eventually rot in some hole in the ground.