She knew how it was done several times a day. It would start with watching the liquids come to a boil. Being forced to watch was part of his plan. He watched her, while she watched the liquids move until the point was reached where they were transformed and unified. She knew exactly when he would get up to remove the grill. Always from one end, watching her while his other hand found the opposite end of the grill. Unlocking it …
Fighting was no use and she had long given up. The pain would be worse, and the wounds would not heal in time for her next “treatment.” After she gave up fighting, he had allowed her to be untied in the chair, letting her get up by herself, watching her walk towards the basin.
He would watch for the same pace and length of her steps. Any deviation warranted an explanation. How she did not know, but she had stopped showing terror. She had stopped trembling, and it made him mad.
Her only hope was his madness. He might make a mistake from sheer anger. That was her only chance.
She looked ahead while she approached the basin in the expected pace. The liquids would be hot. After the stinging and tingling came the burning sensation. Despite that pain, she would have to stretch her arms and give him her hands. He would pull her out and watch her shaking body cool down while carefully taking note of each tremor, each blister, and each piece of skin peeling itself loose from her body.
She did not cry. That was not the reaction she had expected of herself. In her mind, she would be the one kicking and screaming, crying, and begging. But she didn’t. Not anymore.
Her only hope was his madness …