George Washington felt such a great pain that his mind could not even process it.
It was as if his body was being torn apart from the inside his organs rupturing, his bones splintering, his blood boiling. His consciousness flickered, his vision swam, his thoughts scattered like leaves in a hurricane. To him, it felt like his mind was about to explode.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
His scream tore through the air raw, primal, agonized. His body convulsed on the ground, his limbs twitching, his muscles spasming. He was a puppet whose strings were being pulled in every direction at once, a vessel being filled with something that was not meant to be contained.
Then all of a sudden, the pain disappeared.
He looked up immediately.
Replaced with the pain was a sense of joy. It was not a type of joy that came from the achievement of something not the satisfaction of victory, not the relief of survival. It was much more fundamental than that. It was the joy of a child a pure joy that is not given, but born with. The ecstasy showed around his face, spreading across his features, twisting his lips into a smile that was not his own.
Frank snapped his finger.
SNAP.
George Washington returned to normal.
His body relaxed, his face smoothed, his eyes cleared. He looked at Frank at the man who had played with him like a toy, who had filled him with pain, then filled him with joy, then snapped him back to reality like a puppeteer changing the scene.
Frank clapped both of his hands together.
CLAP.
The sound was soft, almost gentle. He smiled a thin, calculated expression.
"Let the session begin."
He turned to Davina Jones.
His eyes blue, glowing, piercing fixed on her face. She stood frozen, her body still under his control, her face a mask of defiance and fear. He tilted his head, studying her like a specimen, a subject, a puzzle he was about to solve.
"I would like to ask you something." His voice was calm, almost conversational. "What kind of woman do you consider yourself as in this world?"
He paused.
"And what is your goal?"
His eyes glowed blue brighter, deeper, more intense. He smiled.
"Don't even bother to lie to me." His voice was soft, but absolute. "No lie shall escape my sight."
Immediately, Davina Jones heard him.
It was like beautiful music that flowed into her ears sweet, compelling, inescapable. The words entered her mind, wrapped around her thoughts, pulled at the truth that she had been hiding.
She spoke.
The words came out without her permission. Without her consent. Without her will. They poured from her lips like water from a broken dam, like truth from a shattered soul.
"I'm a woman who needs love."
She paused.
"I'm a woman of no honour."
Her voice cracked.
"My deepest desires stem from my want of love."
Tears welled in her eyes.
"I need to be loved."
in the space between the confession and the silence, between the truth that had been pulled from her and the weight of what it meant.
Davina stood, tears streaming down her face.
Frank watched, his smile widening.
George Washington lay on the ground, his shame burning in his eyes.
And the sea waited.