He screamed, and even through the tight gag it was blood-curdling. He was upside down, he knew that much. All he could see were occasional flashes, flashes of God-knows-what. Maybe they were pain.
He couldn’t move his arms, but he couldn’t feel any rope or chains holding them. They hung down next to his head, useless.
And then there were the bats. They clung to his bare skin and sank their teeth into his sides, licking the warm blood as it seeped out.
Somewhere behind him a door opened. He didn’t see any light, but he heard it creak open and shut with a bang that echoed. He heard footsteps and tried to speak around the gag, but it was useless. The figure stopped in front of him and stared down at him. He pleaded with both his voice and his eyes, imploring her to let him down.
She pulled a bottle out of her pocket, and he watched warily. She pulled a medicine dropper out of another pocket and sucked up some of the bottle’s contents, then began dripping it onto his wounds.