Chrysanthemum, oh lovely Chrysanthemum had been broken down, whittled down to nothing. Streaks of clean skin were only left by tears and she tried once more to wriggle out of the strappado to no avail. The rope was too tight and the dislocation of her now weak arms didn’t help. She gave up and hung her head in defeat and shame. She wasn’t supposed to end up here. Talking back to a husband should never foster this kind of punishment. A low creak of the heavy metal door between her and freedom. Chrysanthemum didn’t bother to pick her head up, it seemed too pointless.

“Chrys?”

Another hallucination, she assumed. She didn’t want to gain false hope again.