Those who had been observing Atticus from the very beginning would consider him to be a very simple individual. And truly, he was.
Atticus had never believed in conscious mistakes.
Your brain was perfectly functioning, you weren't unconscious, you knew exactly what you were doing.
So why then, why the hell would you call it a mistake?
It was utter bullshit. Bullshit he had no intention of entertaining.
Zephyr's screams went on deaf ears. The sound of water bubbling and the smell of meat cooking filled the space.
Despite the intense pain, only his head moved, jerking backwards and forward. An incredible amount of spittle flailed around as he kept on screaming.
His whole body was still being restrained by the searing hot water, however, he could feel every inch of the pain.
