"Why are you doing this? We've done nothing to provoke you," the old man rasped, his long white hair matted with blood as it trailed across the stone floor. His face was bruised and swollen, yet he maintained a sliver of defiance in his eyes as he lay beneath the towering figure of a woman. She stood with her muscular frame casting a shadow over him, her foot pressing down on his chest, holding him in place.
She smiled, a grin filled with malice, yet her voice was disconcertingly soft and almost playful, in stark contrast to her brutal appearance. "Why? Because you're weak," she said, her voice laced with cruelty. "You can curse your fate all you want, but in the end, it's your own weakness that led you here."
