Nothing ever lasted long, and that included this night.
While the Head Master and Kazim continued to try and get answers from Wisdom, time was slowly running down and so was the upper hand they had somehow managed to obtain.
The screams of Wisdom did nothing to fuel their answers but remained as an evident result of their failure to obtain coherent information from him.
What could be done, though, as torture was an easily used method?
By now, Wisdom was a skeleton of his former self, weak and fired. Blood drained out of every Fibre of his being, the icky crimson paint of flesh and blood-forming graffiti around his chair.
Kazim had to take a few steps back, a saw on one hand and a hammer on the other.
A distention could be clearly seen on Wisdom's shoulder and his second limb hung hazardously from its position.
The pain looked unbearable, and yet, he bore it.
The HeadMaster sighed, rubbing his temples as he turned around to walk away.
