Hans moved a hand. The conversations that had been starting again stopped. The only sounds were those of the stand being set up, and that was soon over.

“Now, we can play.” He announced while stepping down from the platform. He walked slowly up to us. To me. Our eyes crossed and I knew what he was about to do. For fuck’s sake. His feral grin returned. “I heard you like to sing, pet. I’ll make you sing. Like a fucking canari.”

Percy tried to move between us, but she was grabbed from behind by two mountains that had taken man shape. Forced to her knees. Gagged. If looks could kill, they’d all have dropped on the spot.

Hans grabbed my arm and half dragged me to the stand. I’d thought he would have his minions set things up, but I was wrong. He took his time attaching the shackles to my wrists, as if to make a show of it. His grin never left his face. I wanted to puke. Preferably on him. Behind me I could hear Percy struggling, trying to get loose from the mountains’ iron grip. Her screams were muffled but I could make out insults.

I tried to turn to her but Hans was working on the second wrist already. I was facing a piece of wood that smelled of old blood and sweat. I almost regretted the sights and smells of Percy gutting rabbits. Almost.

The pain in my shoulders was getting worse. No way to ease it, no way to move. I felt Hans get behind me. He pulled my head back. He had a knife in his other hand. “So, pet. Let’s see what’s under that shirt.”

Fear. It tasted like ashes. It felt like the end of everything in slow motion. My heart was trying to escape from my chest. All I could hear was the air I had to force into my lungs. The shackles on my wrists were heavy. Cold, yet burning. The stench of the stand was maddening.

I felt the cold point of the Madman’s knife against my neck, his hand grabbing my shirt. Pulling. The sound fabric being torn, like the scream of a beast about to die. The bastard was taking his time. I yelped when the dagger nicked my skin. First blood. It wouldn’t be the last.

Hans’ laugh felt like a physical blow. My shoulders sagged. Bad idea. But even that pain wasn’t enough to kick me out of the fear trance. As soon as he released my hair, I rested my forehead on the stand. Forced myself to breathe. To not hear Perceneige’s unearthly screams.

Hans snapped at her, but the blood beating in my ears covered the words. Her screams became shouts, full of hate and disgust. He laughed again. Then silence. The rustle of fabric against flesh as he moved. The snake-like sound of something trailing on the floor. The whip. He had been handed the whip. I gritted my teeth, preparing for what was to come. Don’t bite your tongue. Scream, cry, beg if you must, but don’t bite your tongue. 

Three steps, and Hans was behind me, in position. The minions jeered. Threw words at me like blows to my face. I didn’t care. Breathe. My muscles tensed despite my efforts to relax.

The air split. Pain. A scream. Laughter. Sobs. Again. Again. Again. I stopped counting. Slow enough that the pain felt like waves. It had time to recede before the next blow came. Again. My vision was blurred, red. I closed my eyes. Pain. My throat was sore from screaming, and still it came. Again. I couldn’t hear anything else. Only the whip, snaking on the floor, splitting the air, burning my skin. I felt blood trickling down my back. Tears down my cheeks. Again. I stopped screaming. Stopped moving. The pain was there was, all there ever would be. And still it came. Until the world turned black.

I was lying on a hard surface, on my belly. My head was spinning. I could feel hands on my back and tried to move away. My body didn’t seem to respond. I tried to look around, but all I saw was red. Then black, again.