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PLEASE DO NOT HURT ME
Defying the strong inhibitions that arose in my suspecting mind, I took the sip from the golden goblet, encouraged by the spectators, a lamentable mistake indeed, for it brought me to my knees and inflicted a pain as grave as the one produced by a punch in the gut, causing me to spew out blood. Feeling betrayed by the ones who’d suggested the concoction, I suffered not only from my inability to trust my own discretion but also from the physical discomfort accompanied by the drink. Once I’d bled enough to leave me with the opportunity to make observation of the curious gazes affixed on me, I opened my mouth to relay to them my grievances about what had happened to me, but my tongue was paralysed because of my involuntary surrender of control over to my enfeebled body which landed me flat
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