"Make your choice. Three, two..."

Sanford ignored Cyrus's pleas, his voice cold as he counted down.

As the relentless numbers fell from Sanford's lips, Cyrus, his teeth clenched, picked up the stick and struck his left arm forcefully, his eyes squeezed shut.

A scream tore through the silence. Cyrus's face drained of color, pain etching his features as cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

Trembling, he looked up at Sanford and asked shakily, "Mr. Robles, is this sufficient?"