And I see it again.
Fear.
Not for me.
For himself.
"I can't," he breathes, so low I almost don't hear it. "Just don't fight them… please. It'll be worse if you do."
My throat tightens.
"What the fuck is going on?" I whisper, panic rising again, my voice shaking. "Where are we? Who are these people?"
He shakes his head quickly, eyes flicking toward the camera.
"I can't say anything," he mutters, voice tight. "You have fractured ribs… sprained ankle… you'll heal if you stay still."
That's not what I asked.
"You need to—"
A scream cuts through the wall.
Sharp.
Desperate.
My entire body locks up.
A girl.
Right next door.
"No—please—stop—!"
The soundrips through me so fast it feels like my chest caves in. My vision narrows. My stomach twists so hard I think I'm going to be sick.
Oh God.
Oh fuck.
No no no no—
I can hear it.
I can hear everything.
The sound of fabric tearing.
A slap.
Her choking on a sob.
"Please—I'll do anything—please don't—"
Another scream.
Muffled this time.
