Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
The first few days, I counted everything. The number of guards. The rotation of shifts. The time between meals. The number of cameras I’m able to see from here.
It’s become a habit now so I don’t lose my goddamn mind.
During my second day in this hellhole, Kirill removed the shackles from my wrists and ankles, but the cell door remains locked, and I haven’t been allowed out since the first time.
He comes to check on me every other day, asks how I feel, and searches me with those soulless black eyes of his before leaving again.
My fingers tighten around the cold steel bars, the chill sinking deep into my skin. Everything in this place is cold. The bars, the water, and the concrete beneath my bare feet.
There’s no warmth in here, not from the thin, scratchy blanket on the very uncomfortable metal bed, and certainly not from the three plain meals shoved through the hatch every day.
Kasha, a grainy porridge, is served in the morning, and cabbage soup or boiled potatoes for lunch. Sometimes we’re given a hard slice of black bread with meat so gray I can’t look at it for too long without gagging.
I eat enough to stay conscious, but every bite sits in my stomach like lead that refuses to dissolve.
At first, I refused to eat, but my hungry butt only lasted one day. In this place, hunger doesn’t give a shit about pride, and if I’m going to survive long enough to find a way to escape, I’ll need my strength.
God, I miss my loved ones so much that there’s a constant gnawing ache in my chest. The longing never stops. It’s there when I open my eyes in the morning until exhaustion finally drags me into a few restless hours of sleep.
It’s the worst form of torture I’ve ever had to endure.
Fourteen agonizingly long days without seeing Enzo and touching him in some way.
Two weeks without hearing Mom’s voice or having Dad tease me or bring me snacks.
The pain spikes horribly, and I suck in a quivering breath while fighting back the tears.
I miss Alessio, Raffaele, and all the guards who used to annoy me. I’d give anything to see them again.
Jesus. I miss my fortress and my routine. My bed with my soft blankets and pillows. My own clothes instead of these stiff, starched jeans and rough shirt they’ve given me to wear.
Oh God. Junk food.
No, scratch that. I’d eat anything Enzo gives me. If I ever make it out of this hell, I’ll never complain again about eating healthy.
Sometimes the pain of missing my loved ones and life is so overwhelming, I struggle to remain standing and end up in a curled ball on the bed.
I hear a sniffle, and my gaze darts over the hackers I can see, but whoever’s crying is out of my line of sight.
Tim glances to his right before continuing to type, his shoulders hunched. After all this time, I still know only his name.
The guy behind him whispers something repeatedly. A prayer?
At night, when the lights are off and the guards settle into their slower routine, the hackers talk to each other. Soft, broken voices, all different accents, drift from cell to cell around mine.
‘They’ll kill us when they’re done.’
‘My hands won’t stop shaking.’
‘I can’t see properly anymore.’
‘I forgot my mother’s voice.’
‘Do you remember what a burger tastes like?’
‘I can’t sleep. What if tomorrow is my last day?’
The first time I heard their hopeless words, something inside me cracked so hard I had to press my fist to my mouth to keep a sob from escaping.
A man with dark hair and hollow cheeks sleeps in the cell to my right, and Tim is on my left. During my first night here, I tried to talk to them after the lights were switched off, but no one responded to me.
After that, I tried a few more times, but everyone kept ignoring me.
The isolation is… tormenting. I’ve always had someone to talk to, and now the only people who interact with me are the Russian guards, Kirill, and Danil. And they always keep things short and to the point, hardly ever answering any of my questions.
Suddenly, a loud crack cuts through the air, making me flinch hard. Every hacker in my line of sight freezes at once while looking in the same direction.
I think one of them must’ve fallen asleep, and a guard slammed the butt of his gun against a desk.
My hands tighten around the bars as I press my face to them, and I manage to see a guard grinning as he says, “Next time I shoot you.”
Three more people have been executed.
The first was a man who collapsed and couldn’t get up fast enough. They dragged him to the side and made everyone watch as they shot him in the head. The second was a girl who couldn’t have been older than twenty. She made a mistake on whatever system they’re forcing them to work on, and an FBI alert came up on her screen.