(Thank you @LizzyTzee for the image)

“Here we are again, Tina.” The familiar voice reverberated off the hard tile walls and floor, filling the space. “Hiding again I see.”

I take stock. This hogtie feels intricate. Meant to tell me something.

“Ahhhgggmmmff.” The gag feels like a rock of hard rubber. It wedges in my mouth more than conforms to my shape. I resist the impulse to argue with the voice. Trying to speak is too uncomfortable.

“Aren’t you sick of repeating the same mistakes.” A question with no question mark. “You stupid little girl.”

“Gggaaarr.” My outburst hurt. My blood tastes warm and metallic. I feel the pulse in my temple throbbing.

“I called you stupid Tina. What? Nothing to say to me?” I hold quiet and still. My eyes flick back and forth. The room is dim despite the stark white sterile walls. “Ha ha ha ha heh heh he he. It’s funny when you something wise Tina. So out of character.”

Jesus I’ve always hated the voice. I relax my forearms and turn my hands to test the tightness. There isn’t any slack yet. I’ll have to twist and pry and stretch the cords until I have something to work with.

“That only works with real ropes. You know that. You’re really quite stupid, Tina.”

The walls are close on all sides. I’d like them closer. I want them against me for the pressure. I want to feel their touch. I try to pull my knees in so can inch myself closer. I can’t. My naked skin feels tacky, sticking to the tiles. My ankle tether is short denying the range of motion it would take to overcome the friction.

“There’s no comfort for you in there cunt. Maybe distraction.”

The vulgarity hit me. It was unnecessary and out of character. Like the braided cord and intricate rope work. I can’t remember the next step in my sequence to search for weakness in the rigging. Even though it’s a process I repeat each and every time. I bounce in place in frustration.

“The sad part worthless cunt is you did this. Again. Like always.”

That’s a lie. These aren’t my knots. I strain against the and there’s nothing. There’s no way out.

At least I have the walls. They’re the only thing that feels exactly right. Familiar but still unable to comfort. I try again and fail to inch closer.

“I used to be impressed. You know that Tina? Each time you tried something new. And accomplish more than we expected. Each time expecting it to be enough. And then finding you back here again.”

The ropes are all so tight. The pressure they inflict is a more intense level of the perpetual pain only a sinner comprehends.

“Why don’t you just stop Tina?”

That is the first time the voice ever spoke with sincere empathy. The mocking tone stripped away. Worn down by years of unheeded lessons.

“Why do you come back here over and over? Why do you even build them?”

I ignore the questions as I always do. I dodge their impact and pretend to try to escape.

I hear a sigh.

“As you wish, girl. Understand something though. I have always come asking. I have always returned. What happens when i stop? Have you thought about that Tina? You can tell things are different. They’re changing. And one time, maybe the next time, I won’t bother coming here. And you’ll be on your own. Truly. Are you going to be ok then?”

“With just your walls?”