Before he knew it, Ash’s arms were being unhooked and he was dropping to the ground. The minute his body hit the ground, pain jarred through every particle in his body. The numbness he had before vanished away, and he felt the searing pain in his abdomen of cracked ribs, and the trickle of blood running down his body.

There must have been a cut somewhere on his head as blood ran and mingled with his hair and ran into his eyes. There were bleeding slash marks on his back from a whip, and cuts all over his arms and legs from a knife.

Ash didn’t want the torture master to enjoy this anymore than he ever let him, so like always, he resisted the urge to cry out or show any signs of the pain that throbbed through his body.

The torture master frowned down at the crumpled form of the boy. He thought for sure that he’d be able to crack him this time, but he had remained as stoic as ever. Next time, he thought to himself.

Then he dragged the boy over to the roaring fire. “Can’t have you bleeding out, can we?” He said and used a metal from the rod to burn the blood dry and seal up the wounds. Of course, the torture master had never had that done to himself, but he knew from past experiences with others that it must hurt a lot.

When he was finally finished with the boy who regularly came here, he went and knocked on the door. Two guards entered and dragged the boy out of the chamber.

When Ash was finally back into his room, he finally allowed himself to cry. Tears poured down his face as he felt every bit of pain that the torture master had dealt out.