PREVIEW

... hird. Maybe the tenth. Or maybe time didn’t matter when you were tied up, starved, and left to rot in your own sweat and fear.

My throat was raw from the gag that had been shoved in and out of my mouth. My wrists were blistered from the rope. The skin around them felt hot, infected, like my body was beginning to rot from the outside in. The corners of my lips were cracked and bleeding. My breath came in shallow pants, each inhale feeling like knives slicing into my lungs.

But wha ...

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