The red-faced man had a bullwhip in his hand.
“She tied good and tight?”
“Sure is Pa, wouldn’t want her gettin’ away.”
The terrified girl heard coarse laughter, then the whistle and crack of the whiplash. The pain as it cut her skin was excruciating.
She heard the whip crack again and again. And she heard screaming. But she felt no more pain. Who screamed? She knew not, feeling gratitude that it was someone else under the lash, and shame for that feeling.
Gentle hands cut her down.
“We are Nemesis,” a voice whispered, “and you are safe now.”