I realized I wasn’t screaming anymore, but I was making that funny, high-pitched noise, a sort of ongoing keening. I abandoned any further notions of dignity. Part of me noticed that Michael was beside me, breathing hard, undoubtedly from the exertion of flogging me. He unclipped my wrists from the chains, then re-clipped them together behind my back. My arms were limp, exhausted by my mighty but pointless struggles to escape Michael’s assault. I thought vaguely that restraining my noodle arms again was overkill since I couldn’t have lifted a pillow at the moment. I felt him release one of my ankles, then with his arm tight around my waist, he pulled me to one side. He pushed me to the cool wood floor, clipped my free ankle onto the same chain as my other ankle, and gave me a little shove on my shoulder, toppling me over to where I ended lying prone on one side, knees bent. Michael said, “Rest.” I heard his footsteps recede. Where was he going? I felt like a broken doll, tossed in an unwanted heap.
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