It is the 9849th day of his imprisonment. He does not know this, he has no means of keeping track. He looks around at his fellow slaves, their eyes lifeless, their spirits broken. He goes through his daily rituals. He screams endlessly, he begs for escape, he thrashes and beats against the walls surrounding him. He screams at his captors. They smile and turn away as the sun sets. Night falls over his concrete prison, his captors have gone and he still screams. He is the only one who still screams.

It is the 9850th day of his imprisonment. He has been raped again. His captors isolate him and surround him as they have done countless times. He assumes the position as he has done countless times. He does not struggle at this point. He cannot tell whether it is because the routine is burned into his brain or if he has begun to enjoy it himself. They smile as they stroke his penis, they condescendingly pat him on the head when he ejaculates. They walk away as he begins to scream again. He cannot tell if he screams because he misses the pleasure or because he realizes what he allows them to do to him.

It is the 9851st day of his imprisonment. He has been denied food privileges. His stomach's rumbles intensely vibrate through his concrete prison. He refused to obey his captors, they always responded like this. He would either submit or starve to death. He wondered which option was worse as he went through his routines with an empty stomach. He wondered if he would miss the other slaves, he wondered if they would miss him as the echoes of his screams resonated with the growling of his stomach.

It is the 9852nd day of his imprisonment. A fellow slave has attacked him again. Bits of torn skin lie at the concrete floor as he bleeds from a fellow slave's feral bite. He wonders why they lash out at him. He wonders if they resent him for his screaming, for not simply giving in already. He knows why the slave bites him, they do not speak the same language, they cannot communicate their frustrations and  instead turn on each other violently. The other slave is denied food privileges, only fueling the frustration. He wonders if this is the captor's intention. He screams this night out of anger in lieu of his normal desperation.

It is the 9853rd day of his imprisonment. It is the day of retribution. For as much as he screams, as much as he resists, his captors do not seem to mind his torment. Twenty-seven years of burning hatred, of the repetitive, mindless paces he takes around his prison. Of the routine of endless screaming. At long last, he has isolated a captor. He lunges at her with unfathomable speed, he grabs her arm and yanks her into the prison. He begins to violently disembowel her, thrashing, yanking at hair and flesh. It has been a long time since he has had this taste in his mouth. The crystal blue water churns red with the orca trainer's blood and SeaWorld visitors and staff panic as her lifeless body is circled by the drooping dorsal fin of the twelve thousand pound feral slave.

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