Breaking was not the only thing that happened to my fingers.
Slowly, one by one, starting from the outermost part, he tore off all my fingers. He peeled off their skin, and as my cries echoed in the room, I never gave him what he wanted.
Not that I didn't, I couldn't.
How long has it been since I stopped holding back my tears? How long since I started screaming from the pain?
I didn't know, yet I tried to at least keep my consciousness in one piece while it was happening. It was one thing, at least the thought that made me keep resisting it.
The same thing happened to Celine.
It was this thought that made me endure this pain a little bit, that made me at least remain 'myself' even if I screamed.
At least at first.
