In this critical moment, Dean didn't dare doubt Charlie's words. As Charlie talked about relentless self-destruction, Dean's heart sank. It was like someone who grew up in a tropical rainforest, never having seen the cold was suddenly thrown into an icy pool. He knew he couldn't match Charlie, and even his fellow underlings couldn't make a difference. Escape seemed like an impossible dream.
Dean imagined his comrades sensing something was wrong and rushing in. Charlie would surely take them down easily, leaving Dean with no hope of rescue.
To make things worse, there were still at least four long hours until dinner.
He wasn't thinking about revenge or saving his pride anymore. All he wanted was for Charlie to stop this inhumane torture and humiliation. Dean found himself reduced to the most humble of pleas, kneeling on the cold, grimy floor, clasping his hands above his head like an obedient pet, hoping for Charlie's mercy.
Charlie looked at the pitiful sight before him, his sneer dripping with cruelty. He teased, "Has anyone ever begged you like this before, on their knees?"
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