Stasis.
Locked and imprisoned into ten thousand years of torment; agony and waiting as each tiny drop of water hits my forehead with the detriment of the explosion of a sun; each stroke of the knife a gentle reminder of what I am, what I cannot escape.
I cannot forget the feeling of the chains and collars that keep me here; what keeps me waiting and in pain, a sweet voice and tender caresses that have become mere memory now, and yet memory is all I have. Memories of a time that sweetened my soul and held me captive in the bonds of love and lust, though I would gladly die for a chance at such happiness now.
It is surprising how willingly I will trade one shackle for another, and yet I wait alone for a chance at redemption.