The holding cell was so dark that he could barely see his own limbs. In the distance he could hear the continuous sound of something that sounded like droplets, he held onto the sound.
Was this what finally losing grasp of one's sanity meant? He found it hard to think coherently, his mind was a dark, murky place, worse than his physical presence, no, his mind was worse.
His fingers hurt and Nicolás was certain they'd be matted in blood, not his, another man's. His clothes too were stained and likely that on his chest would be scratch marks from when Amante struggled against him.
He had no idea what had snapped in him but one minute he had been standing, listening to Amante delve into the secrets of Annalise's true identity, saying it to his face and with every hint of taunt intended to convey properly that Annalise was the daughter of Benjamin Caruso.
Benjamin Caruso.
YEARS AGO…
