Struggling would be painful. She knew that, logic was correct in that regard, but a spark, just a spark, of instinctual animal lived still in Blue. She moved not a whit when the cell door opened, not even Hoskins' disgusting scent stirred her.

The drugs still soaked her nervous system, making her slow, somnambulant, docile. Unfortunately the tranquilizers didn't dull her pain receptors; Blue's entire body throbbed with every slow heartbeat. An eyelash flickered as the fat man approached the cot, perhaps a chain clinked, unseen.

Her head was turned away, lips barely parted on shallow, uneven breaths. But try as she might, wish that she might, Blue could only clench her fists, and hardly enough to strain, when Hoskins groped her breast, the rough rude pain lost in a cacophony of other hurts and misery.