Scarlet watched the light enter the room. Her green eyes retreated into a glass like impassiveness, as he came closer to her. He hadn't payed direct attention to her yet, so she took in a breath. Her eyes flickered gray for just a second, then returned to green. This man was new to the hell hole; she had never seen him before. She quietly watched as his hand moved up to the pouch on his shirt and took out the First Aid Kit. The woman did not seem to care about the blood on her legs, leaving them alone to heal or get infected. She honestly didn't care at the moment.<br/><br/>As he came closer and pulled out the gauze and antiseptic pad, she began to tremble. The woman shuddered lightly, flinching from the contact. She could feel the warmth of his fingers on her cool skin as he dabbed at her blood and gently wiped it away. What was he doing? Why did he give a damn? She could heal any injuries she'd given herself in mere seconds if given an energy source. She could steal his life's spark, his energy and stamina, and leave him dead on the floor if he just touched her once. Scarlet turned her face away sharply.<br/><br/>When he grabbed an antiseptic pad and held it out, Scarlet physically flinched as if expecting to be knocked out with chloroform or the like. She dizzily blinked at the lights, refusing to grant him any illusions that she was saying yes or that she wanted to be here. If he wanted to clean her, all he had to do was reach down and do it. With an exhausted groan, she lay her head back on the cot and her eyes closed as she rested. She shivered. It was so cold here. Scarlet silently stared into the wall and listened to him breathing.<br/><br/>A few seconds later, she felt the sharp tingling on her legs that meant he was washing her injuries with antiseptic. Scarlet didn't particularly care anymore, why should she bother? After so many years spent in servitude to these men, the woman was sick of pretending she had any sort of hope resisting... Let alone having an actual say in what happened to her. Her eyes drifted from green to gray and she silently stared at the edge of the cot as if it held all the mysteries in the universe.<br/><br/>Scarlet's formerly upset form seemed to deflate into passiveness. She let him finish cleaning her wounds, but didn't utter a single syllable as he did so. With a light shiver, she stared impassively into the cot and floor. There was no reason to shed tears that no one would see. There was no reason to scream out for no one to hear her. There was no reason to fight against something that could not feel.