Catherine's pov
Pa!
Pa!
Pa!
With each sound, another whip mark was left on my body. In the darkened room, I knelt on the frigid floor, surrendering to the relentless lashes that tore my clothes apart.
"Does it hurt?" My father, Elder William, asked me in the darkness.
"Not at all." I clenched my teeth, biting my lips until they bled. I heard myself utter the response, and words escaped through the parting of my lips.
Pa!
The whip struck my back, releasing my father's wrath. It coiled like a venomous serpent, devouring my nerves, causing involuntary tremors to course through my body.
"Catherine," my father's voice descended from above, "I need an explanation."
Struggling to steady my near-collapsing body, I maintained my silence, steadying myself.
In obscurity, nothing was visible, yet my sense of touch grew acute. I felt my father lifting my chin with the whip, the sweat on my face gliding and moistening it.
