The voice chuckled, "No. You will not. Because you will not get out."
This time only one knife bit into the wood of the wheel, landing behind her already bloody palms and making the movements of attempting to pick the lock that much more dangerous. As the blade would bite into the back of her hand when she shifted her wrist to twist the other knife.
"I am thinking, perhaps, that I should take out your vocal cords next. But being the disappointment that you are, you would likely die too quickly from such a minor inconvience."
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