Erato was still quietly crying, the cuts on her chest throbbing and itching as the blood flowed and stained her clothes. Her favourite cardigan, the soft wool turned red. It was going to be ruined. She’d hardly caught the part about the bucket, but she would, oh she would definitely get that part soon enough.
She watched the ceiling as Hybris moved her, seeing the patterns of cracks and mould, and felt horribly sick. She wasn’t cut out for this sort of horror. She wasn’t strong like Clio, who had endured that nasty man and nearly burned. Apollo had got there in time, though. He’d saved her life. Erato just had to hold out hope for that.