Discomfort

Sweat dripped down my forehead. This heat was unbearable. That bright light overhead blinded me. My whole body hurt. I tugged at the hemp rope at my wrists, full of anxiety. It itched. It felt like days since the last time I drank anything or had a breath of fresh air. What sort of torture was this? What did I do to anger the gods so?
 
Tired, my head drooped down to my chest. At least there was a chair beneath me, regardless of how sore it made my bottom. I could be sitting on the ground with straw and dirt sticking to my legs. As if I weren’t uncomfortable enough.
 
A firm hand grabbed my hair and jerked my head back until it hurt.
 
“I won’t ask again,” he growled.
 
Blood trickled down my face. They sure gave a rough beating.
 
Furious over my silence, he cut my throat.
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