In hindsight, asking your sadistic abductor to teach you German was stupid. It seemed like a good idea at the time. He'd often speak in his native language and he preferred TV shows and music in said language, so what's the harm in learning at least a few basic words? Nothing really. The harm was in the teaching method.

Here you were again, sitting on the concrete basement floor, stripped with your arms tied behind your body, around the pole in the basement. Strade held his serrated combat knife against the soft flesh of your thigh, pressing down hard enough you knew a swipe like this would be dangerously deep. He smiled sadistically down at you, as if watching you cry was his favorite thing in the world.

"Come on~ we've been over this leibchen... What does 'der Brennofen' mean in English?"

Strade asked as your panicked mind struggled to pinpoint any one fluid thought.