The spike is being driven in to the wood next to my wrist, not in it, but my hysterics are going, I can't stop screaming, yelling, crying as the nails...are pounded in. Two of the executioners are holding my arms down, and my struggling is to no avail.Heavy ropes are tied around my wrists, and looped around the nails, and then the beam. My struggling subsides as it becomes clear to me that there is no escape from this bondage. This is, after all, what I asked for.I feel like throwing up from. Wonder what the hell happened… And why’s he staring at me like that? “You have cream on your nose, Miss Foster.” Mon ‘stie de kriss. My cheeks flushed, and I buried my nose and mouth in the napkin. When I looked up, he was smirking—he had me over a barrel again. And not without a hint of vindictive irony, the waitress chose that moment to come over and deliver my obscenely un-dainty breakfast, plopping the plate down right on top of my hardly-started sketch. His face twitched, suppressing a. More

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