Suzume spit at him again, of course, this time it didn't reach him. She sat back in the corner farthest from Szayel, ignoring him once more.
Suzume counted eighty-seven days that she had been stuck in her own personal hell, eighty-seven days she spent being tortured and tested on, she was reaching her limit. Like before, she still wasn't eating, which required tube feeding, and recently it became a common occurrence that she'd try to wound herself greatly. She succeeded in biting her own tongue off twice, and twice had swallowed anything she could get her hands on, once it being some sharp instruments, the other time was an experimental work in progress which had nearly burned a hole into her throat. Today she refused to leave her bed, curled up in a ball, back to Szayel as she lay as quiet as ever.