After a little it subsided to a sharp ache, then to a dull ache, and
then to the violent cramping pain again, and once more I struggled to
get my toes under me. I realized that by allowing my toes barely to
touch the floor they had doubled and tripled the pain by the tantalizing
hope of, if not momentary relief, at least the alteration of one pain
for another.
I haven't the faintest idea, even now, how long I repeated that
agonizing cycle: struggle for a toehold on rough stone, scraping my bare
feet raw; arch upward with all my strength to release for a few moments
the strain on my wrenched shoulders; the momentary illusion of relief as
I found my balance and the pressure lightened on my wrists.
Then the slow creeping, first of an ache, then of a pain, then of a
violent agony in the arches of feet and calves. And, delayed to the last
endurable moment, that final terrible anguish when the drop of my full
weight pulled shoulder and wrist and elbow joints with that
bone-shattering jerk.
I started once to estimate how much time had passed, how many hours had
crawled by, then checked myself, for that was imminent madness.
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