Jo had spent that alleged eternity more or less the same way, but with less staring and more low sounds of pain that she tried in vain to repress. Soon the ache in her fingers and hands became unbearable, and when George returned she was still staring at them in muted horror.
In her mind she could see only fire, only cruel flames that licked tortuously at her skin, her flesh transmuted to pure pain. The phantom agony had spread there, shiny red burns and small blisters creeping up the sensitive skin of her hands. She replied to George quietly, biting her lip in anticipation of painful contact. "Okay. Is, um. Is the tub ready?"