He had not known human flesh could feel such pain. Control, said Griffin again. Then another voice, horribly familiar: That’s one good thing about you. When you’re beaten, you don’t cry. Restraint. Repression. Had he not practised this his entire life? Let the pain slide off you like raindrops, without acknowledgment, without reaction, because to pretend it is not happening is the only way to survive. Sweat dripped down his forehead. He fought to push past the blinding agony, to gain a sense of his arms and hold them still. It was the most difficult thing he’d ever done; it felt like he was
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