His lids felt as though lead weights held them down. The first glimpse of light splintered his skull with jagged pain. He closed his eyes again on a long groan. He knew where he was now. As expected, he was strapped to the table in the garden room. Sunshine still streamed through the windows so it must be early afternoon. Before collapsing into a dead faint, he’d spewed copiously over Filey’s boots. After that, he only remembered dim snatches of lacerating pain and harsh voices and rough hands. He’d forgotten how extreme his reaction to comfrey was. His insides felt as though they’d been cleaned out with a rake. A rusty one. His skin was abnormally sensitive and the bands around his legs and wrists and chest were tight enough to hurt. He breathed as deeply as the strap over his torso allowed, then regretted it when his abused muscles protested. ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html Agonizing as they were, his various discomforts only occupied a tiny space in his mind.
