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- Rafael Santoro stood by the dresser, carefully cleaning his tools and instruments and replacing them in their little fitted slots in the big leather case. It amazed Eve that Santoro had not gotten a single drop of blood on his clothing. Not one. The blood on the floor was all on the big plastic tarp. And on the man who sat sweaty, panting, and defeated, on the chair. The man’s soft, fractured sobs were muffled by the ball gag he wore. His tears mingled with the blood, turning a pretty pink as it wandered down through the dense forest of his chest hair. Santoro took a small utility knife from the kit and sliced through the padded ropes that held the man to the chair. He cut them all, and pulled out the ball-gag, and handed the man a towel.
- “Thank you,” mumbled the man. Adam and Eve exchanged a wide-eyed look. The man had thanked someone after everything that had been done—and worse, said—to him.
- -Rage pg. 247-248
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