The pain was horrific. It was beyond pretty much anything she had ever experienced. And what made it worse was that she felt it, she mentally processed it --and yet because of those slivers of wood keeping her immobile, she wasn't able to do anything to stop the pain. She hated the woman more than before, which was impressive, considering she already wanted to kill her.
Freya didn't cry out, though. She didn't make any noise. She didn't attempt to speak, because she knew that if she tried.. she would have likely screamed. And she didn't want to give this bitch that kind of satisfaction. Tears brimmed in her ears, and while they slipped down her cheeks, she breathed. Because breathing was human. And this pain was human.
She focused her stare at the ceiling, hoping that if she was going to be killed, that it happened now. That the woman accidentally nicked her heart.