Henry screamed again, his voice hoarse and broken. He could barely speak, but he forced out a shaky question.
"W-What… did I do to you?" he cried, blood dripping from his lip. "Why… are you doing this to me?"
His voice wasn't even clear anymore. It was just pain, soaked in every word.
Peter, who had been calmly sitting on a chair like this was in some boring school play, finally moved. He looked at Henry with blank, tired eyes.
"If you can tell me what your crime is," Peter said, tapping his fingers slowly on the armrest, "maybe I'll be kind enough to not punish you so much."
Henry's eyes widened a little. His heart beat faster.
Did… did that mean Peter would stop?
Was there hope?
