Kriss was in too much agony to be able to analyse the implications in Aaron's promise. In fact, she was not even really believing him. She had been given so much false hopes since she had been caught by the Patricks. She knew that New-York had turned to an urban jungle but never would she have imagined so much cruelty was possible. It was as if every body wanted to make his fellows humans pay for the misery the World had reached. Or was it only against her? Would they have behaved differently with someone else? Had her self-confidence irritated peoples so much that they wanted to make her pay. Kriss' thoughts were bouncing inside her pain-soaked brains.<br/><br/>Her entire weight, augmented with the heavy yoke was now supported only by the tip of her big toes and the strangled bases of her breasts. As she tried to keep her painful and precarious balance, the heavy piece of wood kept swinging and pivoting around her raw-skinned neck, partly choking her. From the corner of her eyes she could see the top of her breasts. They had turned a dark purple, they had swollen to incredible proportions as blood and fluids got trapped inside them. Their skin was so taut that it looked on the verge of breaking where the arrows were embedded into them. They were also stretching away from her chest. As the tissues were slowly broken and elongated, she was sure that her formerly proud breasts would never again recover their shape. They would rather dangle down her belly, flopping around in an ugly way whenever she would not be supporting them with a bra. This was the last addition to her uglification. She had been turned into a powerless creature that could inspire only horror and pity. Her tattoos, her scars, her broken joints and now her destroyed breasts had extracted all feminity out of her; all humanity even. Her dislocated jaws did not even allowed her to speak coherently.<br/><br/>For what felt like hours and hours, she remained tip-toeing on the concrete floor. At first, she had only been able to stand on the tip of her biggest toes. Now she was able to be on the ball of her feet, and her heels were much closer from the floor. It was a terrible indication of the change in her breasts. Her tired voice had soon grown coarse and rasped, until it had finally failed her. Her mouth was parched from too much screaming and drooling. Her jaw was dangling at a bizarre angle, mercifully resting on the yoke, which prevented it from swinging too much.<br/><br/>Kriss' eyes were blood-shot, fixed upon the ring in the ceiling to which the boob-strangling ropes were converging. In her throes, she had spun on herself and the ropes were twisted a few times together. However, her broken mind was unable to make out in which sense she should spin to release the kink.