As soon as she appeared she again made me fall on those faggots amidst those skulls...
She leaned on me, she smelt like Malmsey, she said in her terrible sharp tone, "Not everyone has privilege of going to hell by my hands, and you little brat, you're kinda' special... Future Victress."
I was helpless now, it was all over, that pain inside and my bleeding body, it seemed to be on culmination.
I cried bitter tears, I cried my heart out. I didn't wanted to give up.
That heathen witchery power was shrinking me up now.
I wondered and tried to understand what's going on but no betterment, my brain was going numb, my eyes were shutting now...I wanted to live...I wanted to get up...But I...I...faded away...like that Philomel...while dying I called a name, "Granny Victress, Mayday..."
I knew she must have been searching me, she will listen me...My cry...for help.