"Drink this," Dr. Moriss ordered.
I looked up. He was holding the glass of tomato juice toward me, the tomato juice containing something to make me sicker. I felt the sneering smile distort the sensitive skin of my face as I reached out deliberately and took the glass from him. I looked into his dead eyes while I lifted it to my lips. Then I drank it.
I set the empty glass down on the stand.
"Get out!" I rasped. "Leave me alone."
"What made you afraid, January?"
Suddenly nausea gripped me. Blindly I struggled out of bed to the bathroom. As I went I felt a bitter laughter welling up silently in my mind.
"What made you afraid, January?"
I was retching. That was genuine. I clamped my hands over my ears. That was acting, because Dr. Leopold Moriss had lost his power to torture me.
"What made you afraid, January?"
With an animal snarl I straightened and turned on him, my eyes blinded with tears produced by the retching, my chin wet with vomit. He caught my flailing arms easily, folding them over my chest and pinning me against the wall.