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To protect him.
To do what he demanded of them.
Sir, maybe you should get dressed.
Grab her!
You know what I want – do it now.
Hands on my ankles as I tried to throw myself to the far side of the bed. Hands on my ankles dragging me back to them. Hands on my arms, dragging me upright. Holding me, spinning me, throwing me face down on the bed.
"Don't do this! Don't do this! Oh, my god, please, don't you understand what he is!"
But of course they did. To some degree all of them were, too.
Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up. Save your strength.
The smell in the bathroom, stronger now, because someone had gone in there to do something, something my mind rejected, something I didn't want to think about, something I was in a panic to stop, there were no bars on Bevington's windows because of course in the event of fire, save the old fuck, of course save the old asshole, but what were they going to do, what were they doing –
You know what they're doing you know what you've been smelling hot metal and someone has raked through whatever the source of heat is not charcoal not a brazier because inside that can kill the fumes and oh my god
Shut up, shut up, shut up, do something this can't happen I can't he can't do this I can't take it
"Please!"
It came out a scream. But the guards had already fastened my wrists and ankles to the restraints, arms to chains and handcuffs that spread from the bed posts, legs to the legs of the bed, so I was bent over the bed. Face down.
Immobilized.
Prepared.
As Bevington brought the red hot brand into the bedroom.
