Peony

“You must try the wine.”

“I don’t really drink...Sir,” I try to politely insist. He sighs like this is a major affront. I won’t back down on this though. I am not drinking alcohol around this man. I’m in enough danger as it is.

I flinch a little as The General sighs. He takes a moment to dab at his mouth with his napkin before tossing it onto his empty plate. Mine’s still half full. He gets to his feet and rounds the table to where I’m sitting. My muscles ache from tension. I’ve been knotted up since I found out I had to come here and it’s just gotten progressively worse.

“Come with me,” The General orders.

Before I can question him, he reaches out and grabs my arm – the one he burnt all those years ago – and I know I have to comply to minimise the pain he’s going to inflict upon me.

He waits until we’re at the top of the stairs to strike. A solid blow to the temple and everything is black before my head even hits the floor.