She lost track of time. When William warned her that he was going to take his time, he hadn't been lying. Each of the wizards took their turn inflicting pain on their victim. Sometimes they used spells. Other times they'd use their hands and their feet. The cut on her face was far from the only cut they inflicted. Her dressing gown was in tatters before long. Soaked in her blood, it was impossible to tell what the color of the fabric once was. William grew more confident in his application of the Cruciatus Curse. As she screamed her still-healing throat raw, she thought about the night she killed Amycus Carrow. Would they let it go that far? Or would they take pity on her before that moment?