She'd thought it had been a year since she'd last been properly free. Free to do as she likes, and move about without fear of death, and not have to witness others dying if she chooses not to.
Now, however, she knows that that year was nothing. Now she knows what it's truly like to be confined.
He carves his own frustrations from that year into her skin, and her ensuing screams just seem to excite him all the more. He takes it out on her that way, as well, trapping her wrists above her head.
She remembers freedom. Vaguely.