The steel cuffs at my hands and feet
tear my flesh deep. The iron, now as cold as death, is as unforgiving
as the reaper's scythe. My limbs, once limber and lithe, are now rent
asunder. All for but one minor blunder.
The chains clink, link by link. Another
turn, another clank of the steel tooth holding the the tension which
you so skillfully and calmly crank. For mercy, I beg, have mercy!
Twas only said in jest, those words I did utter., now echos from
these cold stone walls, Thou art surely killing me, Smalls!
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