It was only a matter of moments, but in that time Victor fought a war in his mind that brought him to a place where he hoped he could hold onto a bit of sanity.<br/><br/>He did not know how many times he was struck, but he finally caught hold of Abia’s wrist, snarling at her as he exclaimed, “Stop hitting Malcovich you filthy wench. You come into Malcovich’s room with your pretenses, and then cry out when you get what you want.”  He rolled off of her and staggered over to the bed, his walk and look different from just moments before. “Malcovich is not an easily seduced man! Malcovich gives you credit for your exercise of your feminine wiles...but why did you have to slap Malcovich?” He rubbed the side of his face with one hand while the other dug underneath the mattress.