"idiot!" your last thought as a bag pulled over you head. strong hands grab you, tell you to keep quiet as something hard presses against your timple.you follow, what else were you supposed to do? the sound of a van door, touch of cold metal. the screeching of tires and a hand on your shoulder. a sudden stop. a jerk of two pairs of hands pulling you up. soft ambient music. the scent of tobacco and Scotch. you kneel how unfortunate. a voice slow with a hint of authority and mockingly.
Comments
0No comments yet.