Kenneth Travers does not want to die.
That's what he thinks when he looks into the deranged girl's eyes-I don't want to die.
"I don't want to die!"
She laughs. And it's as high and cruel and cold as any laugh of his Master's.
"Please don't kill me, please don't kill me."
"Beg me." She whispers. Why isn't anyone coming to help him? "Beg me like they begged you."
He remembers them, her niece and nephew. He killed them as she was forced to watch.
"Please, please, please." He's groveling, but he's desperate. There's really no difference between her feet and his Master's. Not when his life hangs in the balance.
"Crucio!"
He wails, screams, kicks, and the agony goes on and on. When it stops, when it finally stops, he's left trembling on the ground, unable to move, his own urine soaking the inside of his pant leg.
"Please." He moans.
A flash of green is all he gets in response.