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That's when it happened, the thing I can barely describe because my mind would not let me see it all.
The bases of the posts, to which the girl's wrists and ankles were tied, must have been mounted on some mechanism below the floor, for they began to move toward the four corners of the room, resulting in an agonizing further stretching of the girl's body in all directions. And I knew I was witnessing a slow and infinitely more agonizing version of the Camel Death.
I turned away, terrified to watch more. I fled the room, my stomach heaving. But I still caught a glimpse of the Pharaoh, my father, as he threw back his hood. He was smiling a smile of awful satisfaction.
And the shrieks of the girl followed me up the passageway, reaching a terrible screeching climax.
And the silence after that was worse.
I feverishly ran about the throne room, vomiting, and, in my hysteria, forgetting where the passage to my quarters was located. When I found it at last, I flung myself up it, staggered into my bedroom and fell onto the bed sobbing and retching dryly.
That is where Tirhya found me and, despite her repeated questioning as to what was wrong, I could not find the voice to tell her.
I was shuddering and sobbing uncontrollably and, that night, it was Tirhya who held me tightly until, just before dawn, I fell into a quivering, fitful--but, thankfully, dreamless--sleep.