That night Mary plagued my dreams. Again and again, she called out to me, blood pouring from her lips. Her dull eyes stared at me accusingly, but I could do nothing to protect her. In each vision, she was ripped from my grasp and her throat slit as I screamed silent screams and the sibla figures around me laughed. I tossed and turned in a cold sweat, desperate to take action for my child though I knew she was already beyond saving. I lay for hours in the dark, too afraid to close my eyes again and see these horrors on repeat.

    When I finally found sleep again just before dawn I could see my girl as she must have looked walking to the barn. The most real of all the nightmares so far. She would have been oblivious. She would never have imagined that they were taking her to her end. My dream-self ran to her, trying to stop the procession leading my little girl to death but hands grabbed my arms, holding me back before I could get anywhere near her.

    "No!!" I cried, thrashing against them. "No, please no!"

    It was the pain that woke me. True agony as hands dug into my arms, stopping my resistance. I turned frantically, still in a partial dream state, to see that I was flanked by two sibla overseers in my waking reality as I had been in my dreams.

    "You're coming with us," one said sharply. "Resistance will only make this worse"

    At his words I stopped struggling, my body limp. I had no desire to live and hoped greatly that they were leading me to slaughter now as they had my little girl. I did not resist as they forced me to my feet and out the door, covered only my bed clothes and no shoes.

    The world spun and my feet froze in the muddy ground through which I was dragged. My captors had no sympathy and I put up no fight, allowing them to drag my dead weight towards the main house as I tried to use my feet to keep up, ultimately failing and feeling the pain of my sore arms pulling my whole bodyweight, legs scraped and covered in earth that caked to my wounds.

    Head fuzzy, body sore, I was only vaguely aware of the crowd that had gathered by the whipping post. The whole estate was likey there. Dulane had always intended to make an example. He'd only pretended otherwise to wound me in a way so cruel that none would ever dare touch him again. I felt foolish to have ever imagined such a man could be capable of mercy. Now my daughter had paid the ultimate price. I deserved whatever punishment he would inflict. I deserved more. Dulane had managed to bring hell to earth and I was like a soul lost to the devil, resigned to burn in penance.

    I was lead stumbling to the familiar post, my arms wrapped around it. The moment I was secured my legs slipped out from under me. I was too exhausted and broken to even remain erect and my punishment had not yet begun.

    "This human has forgotten her place!"

    Everett's booming voice rang out through the air.

    "This thing dared to raise her hand to a man who has fed and clothed her for her entire life. Who had offered care and protection to her ingratitude. Now she and all assembled will witness her punishment for such transgression."

    I gasped in shock as I felt hands uppon me and a sharp prick at my back. A moment later the sound of tearing fabric. They must have cut my shift with a knife. I felt the rush of cold as my entire body was exposed to the air, the rags of dirtied cloth hanging from my bound arms. I closed my eyes and prepared to die.

    Around me, I could picture all those who would be gathered. My Master and his family, Madam Rin, Dreda. All would stand witness as my body was destroyed by Everett's whip or knife or both. Surely he had been given leave to do as he wished with me now. My only consolation was my waning consciousness. I knew I had little strength to last long. My heart was already stabbed through and through by the sight of my child hanging dead in the kitchen.

My stomach curdled at the memory flashing before my eyes and sent the meager contents of my stomach back up my throat as I retched on the ground in front of me. No one took any notice.

    "Are you ready, Alice?" I felt his hand tangled in my hair as Everett forced me to look at him, the taste of vomit still on my lips. "You must know Dulane is through with you now. You will belong to me."

    I didn't respond. There were no words to offer. I was beyond despair already. Everett released his grip and my head flopped down with such force that blackness clouded my vision. A moment later I heard the whip whistling through the air and felt its sharp sting upon my skin.

    The first lash was enough to bring my consciousness back, eyes opening wide as Everett traced the marks of old wounds long healed, now ripped open anew. My screams rang out, unconstrained and I felt the blood streaming down my body. Entirely bare, the nasty tongue of leather lashed against my back and the sides of my breasts and arms. My body was on fire and I could taste the coppery tint of red in the air. I knew Everett was making mincemeat of my skin, flaying me alive with his persistent strikes.

    Even as I screamed myself hoarse, unable to hold back the reaction of my body, my mind drifted. My mother, Lexia, Mary, all those who had passed now danced in the corners of my vision, calling to me. I belonged to them now. It was as I knew the moment I'd pushed my Master. I was one of the dead. As my awareness began to slip again, the pain too much to bear, I turned my eyes to the clear sky above. Mary was waiting and I would join her soon.

    "Cut her down!!"

    I could barley comprehand the words, my body so ravenged by pain, throbing, shaking, bleeding, but the lashes had stopped. My hands were cut free and I fell in a miserable mess onto the hard ground. As sibla bodies crowded around me, I felt myself slip away again, praying that Dulane had been too late to stop this execution. I was not so lucky.

    A moment later I felt the shock of freezing liquid raining down, eliciting fresh screams of pain as water and blood streamed onto the ground around me. Gray hands took hold of my arms and began to drag me up from the ground.

    I wished desperatley I could stop them. That I could simply fall to the earth never to rise again, but the pain of my arms supporting my wieght motivated me to find my footing.

    "Put her on the cart."

    I didn't know what voice spoke, the words a jumble, barley audible over the screaming pain of my wounds that demanded all attention. My body was lifted from the ground and droped, none to gently on some sort of hard surface, my head hitting hard against solid wood sending blackness to my eyes though my counsiousness remained. Then movment. Dizziness filled me and I kept my eyes squeezed tight against the world, my awarness filtting in and out as the bumpy cart carried me along.

    "Stay with me, Alice."

    I heard the whispered command as my eyes blinked open and blurilly percived the human face. The hand taking mine. I didn't want to obey, but it seemed my body would comply nonetheless, heart still beating cruely in my chest, pumping blood to every injury and offering constant alerts of agony.

    "Put her on the bed. I can tend to her."

    My body rose through the air again and came to rest on its stomach. A flurry of motion. A pillow beneath my head. I was vaugly aware of the moans eminating from my lips but the pain was so bad now I was almost numb to it.

    "Clean her up then go back to your assigments."

    A male voice. Sibla. Then the sound of foot steps. A closed door. A moment later I felt a gental hand on my shoulder.

    "They're gone."

    I didn't answer. I didn't have the strength. Instead, I lay there, listening as Dreda moved about the room, gathering her tools, running the faucet. A moment later she appeared by my side with a glass of water. She helped me lift my head enough to take a sip. It was all I could tolerate, the agony too much to keep my head up for long.

    "How bad is it?" I managed to ask, the words forced through dry lips and a throat so sore from my screams.     Dreda didn't answer.

    "How bad!" I repeated, forcing myself to inject a burt of strength to voice.

    "You will survive," Dreda said quietly. "If you do not, he has threatened to take my life."

    I laughed a coughing laugh with no mirth and felt the pain in my ribs at the action. Of course he wouldn't let me die. No, he wasn't done yet. The true moster had been awakened within my Master and now I was to face his full wrath.

    "Don't suffer on my account," I said bitterly, though my anger was not at Dreda. My skin was on fire with every breath, my body in so much pain. But even in my suffering, I saw the frown on her face. The true sympathy in Dreda's eyes.

    "I will do everything I can to be gentle."

    I nodded my head as best I could and closed my eyes to brace against the further pain I knew would come.

    "Wait," she said.

    I opened my eyes again in confusion to see Dreda scan the room before pulling something from her pocket. A small brown flask and three pills she sliped into my hand.

    "Drink this," she said. "It will help."

    I took the vial and medicine without question. I didn't care what it was after all. I would have preferred to find the taste of poison on my lips but instead found the sharp sting of a strong brandy. I downed the entire flask and pills in one gulp, hoping that my mind might temporarily be freed from my body.

    Dreda was a true healer. Though it was impossible to avoid all pain I was impressed by the speed with which she worked, pulling strips of cloth and skin from my body, cleansing the wounds, and stiching the worst of them with a clean needle she continued to pass under flame.  I watched the blurry hands of the clock on the wall above the door, counting the seconds in my mind. Numb repetition to distract from the surgery.

    Within an hour's time, she had finished bandaging and tending to what she could. She made certain I was settled as comfortably as possible on my pillows and offered me some fresh water. I drank, my parched throat betraying my desire to ignore all natural instincts and waste away.

    "He deserves to pay for what he has done," I remember saying as my eyes closed in a mix of pain and alcohol induced daring. Her eyes met mine, holding my gaze with a strength of hatred that matched my own.

    "I know," she said.