When the prisoner was brought into this room, he was again questioned; but, continuing contumacious, preparations were made for inflicting the torture. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. "Don't alarm yourself about him, Sir," replied Austin. I kicked the living shit out of him. She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. "I suppose I was mistaken," returned Gay.
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