Methuselah's Daughter, Part 4, Chapter 26
J.A. Eddy
Circa 130 BCE
I awoke swinging by my ankles and wrists, bound to a pole carried on the shoulders of two men like some fresh kill being carried home after a hunt. I was naked, my throat was on fire and I could feel neither my hands nor my feet. Realizing my predicament a roar of incoherent rage pushed from my chest but came out of my aching throat with considerably less force than I intended. Still, it was enough to attract attention and my captors stopped briefly, stared at me, and called out to some others in that strangely clipped tongue of theirs. After a few pokes at me and some infuriating laughter they continued their march.
I prepared myself for the humiliations to come. I would undoubtedly be beaten and raped, but those would be familiar degradations at least. I sincerely hoped not to be burned. I had been burned fairly badly once and that was a pain difficult to suffer through. In any case I would watch for whatever chance to escape presented itself—and though there was no sign of his whereabouts I would await my opportunity to kill that vile creature Rufus the moment he should chance my way.
Note: Some readers may find what follows disturbing.
===============
READ MORE
===============
Life is not for the feint of heart.
Of course we all lose our tempers now and then. Dean freely admits to being imperfect in this regard, which is why regulars to this establishment will generally be cut more slack than people who we don't know very well.
Still: behave like an adult, or go find somewhere else to play. Thanks.