“Your home is, actually, the worst torture chamber of all” said the Sargent dryly.
The burly soldiers held Gustav in vice-like grips and lead him on. The Sargent held Anatoli, bouncing him gently.
He continued, “Why, in this room I could start the blender and run your hand into it. Or, maybe, in that room I could turn on the scalding shower and stream it over your genitals.
Or press your only child’s face to the electric burners. While red-hot and vicious.
Shall we begin?”
Gustav could not answer, of course: His tongue had been clipped hours ago.