1984

           Thefeelingofnakedness,withone’shandsbehindone’sheadandone’sfaceandbodyallexposed,wasalmostunbearable. Themanprotrudedthetipofawhitetongue,lickedtheplacewherehislipsshouldhavebeen,andthenpassedon. Therewasanothercrash. Someonehadpickeduptheglasspaperweightfromthetableandsmashedittopiecesonthehearth-stone. 

           Thefragmentofcoral,atinycrinkleofpinklikeasugarrosebudfromacake,rolledacrossthemat. Howsmall,thoughtWinston,howsmallitalwayswas! Therewasagaspandathumpbehindhim,andhereceivedaviolentkickontheanklewhichnearlyflunghimoffhisbalance. OneofthemenhadsmashedhisfistintoJulia’ssolarplexus,doublingheruplikeapocketruler. Shewasthrashingaboutonthefloor,fightingforbreath. Winstondarednotturnhisheadevenbyamillimetre,butsometimesherlivid,gaspingfacecamewithintheangleofhisvision. Eveninhisterroritwasasthoughhecouldfeelthepaininhisownbody,thedeadlypainwhichneverthelesswaslessurgentthanthestruggletogetbackherbreath. Heknewwhatitwaslike;theterrible,agonizingpainwhichwasthereallthewhilebutcouldnotbesufferedyet,becausebeforeallelseitwasnecessarytobeabletobreathe. Thentwoofthemenhoistedherupbykneesandshoulders,andcarriedheroutoftheroomlikeasack. Winstonhadaglimpseofherface,upsidedown,yellowandcontorted,withtheeyesshut,andstillwithasmearofrougeoneithercheek; andthatwasthelasthesawofher. 

           Hestooddeadstill.Noonehadhithimyet. Thoughtswhichcameoftheirownaccordbutseemedtotallyuninterestingbegantoflitthroughhismind. HewonderedwhethertheyhadgotMrCharrington. Hewonderedwhattheyhaddonetothewomanintheyard.