Angry was an understatement. She was asking with a mixed feeling of terror and helplessness and rage. There was nothing she hated more than being at someone else's mercy. Kim was trembling by the time she heard another interaction. She pressed her ear against the crack in the door. She couldn't hear words clearly, but she could hear someone she didn't recognize that she guessed was another prisoner. 

Kim shot back but stayed on her feet this time. She crossed her arms over her chest, half in modesty, half in attitude. "That noise," she practically growled as soon as her door was opened. "What type of psychological warfare is it? What do you want?"