"Are you ready?" he asked. It must be her nerves that made her think there was sick excitement in his voice; he'd told her that it pained him to have to make her prove herself.
"Yes, sir, I won't let you down." Please don't let me fail. Please, please, she prayed silently. Every time he put her in that hole, the fear got worse. She had constant nightmares about being trapped inside that hollow, cement grave. And sometimes she dreamed of mean-looking men stuffing her into a small suitcase. She'd taken to sleeping on the roof because she couldn't stand being cooped inside a room anymore. At least she'd sounded firm. None of the sick fear that lived in her gut bled into her words. She'd emptied her bladder in case the panic overwhelmed her again. It was inevitable, after spending days in the hole, but at least she wouldn't disgrace herself when they put her in, like she did the first time.