I followed her up to her flat. It was small, but very clean and tastefully decorated. Beautiful painting covered the walls and I noticed her signature...was scrawled in the corner of each one. It was almost illegible, but I was barely able to make out Nicola in it. “You paint?” I asked. “Not much any more, but once I did. Do you want something to drink?” I shook my head. “I am going to get myself a glass of water, why don’t you take a seat on the couch?” She walked into the tiny kitchen that was. He started to count, as he assuredly placed the whip exactly as he desired criss crossing her body. After the fifth strike she was already disconnected from the screaming as though the pain belonged to someone else. Surely, she wasn't truly getting tortured in the hands of this psychopath? He stopped at 10, took a few steps and repeated the pattern across her back. She was gasping for breath between screams her face streaming. The pain was unbearable but unfortunately endurable and she knew she. More

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