The days went by. Martha had lost track of the passage of time, so it was impossible to say how long had passed. She had given up the belief that her passing was only around the corner. She merely got by day to day as best she could, avoiding beatings whenever it was feasible, and attempting to understand what was expected of her and what was necessary of her. Given the incredible ability for adaptation that humans possess, she was able to do this. It may have been afternoon, and in all likelihood, it was. Martha was in the position in which she felt most comfortable, but this time Steven had been careful enough to lay a pad under her knees. Kneeling on the ground, her wrists were laxly bound behind her back, and her hair was twisted back into a long ponytail behind her. Steven was slowly
