Mack removed a few drops of sweat from his own face and dropped his own body over the chair behind him.
He was tired.
Not physically, but mentally. He had to focus too much on what he was doing.
Still seated, Mack searched for something in his pockets until he found on the right pocket.
A pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
Mack lit one and put on his mouth, slowly dragging the smoke while he appreciated the view in front of him.
A bloody man without a single centimeter of skin over his body, no ears, no eyes, no tongue and with all fingers broken.
The smoke came out of Mack's mouth as he kept looking at the still alive man in front of him.
Only the gods would know what Mack was thinking know.
But if someone paid attention to his eyes, they would see two long lines of tears coming from Mack's eyes.
