As the threads finish falling away, I take in more damage than I was prepared to see. Her throat is bruised with fingerprints, and her body is striped with welts, proof of internal and external torture. My jaw grinds, and I feel my monster working hard to surge forth. Her face is stained by so many tears that it’s almost unbearable to look upon right now. And her shirt is ripped open, as though things had started to progress before she managed to seal herself away.
