There is a sweet metallic poignant smell impregnating the air I breathe. The scent
mixed with a stifling aroma of intestinal juices infused with a mushy wet version
of what was for breakfast.
In this room, this room that I happen to accommodate, a room without any windows,
a room with cobwebs in every corner, a room with small fragments of cloth ripped apart
in shreds, this room that I am in - smells like fear if not death as well.
I should be reporting to the boss that the mission went as planned and Kashif Amar's
corpse was ready to be collected, but things didn't end the way I expected. Here I sit in
this basement with my hand tied to my back and the pungent smell of vomit, about to
suffocate me.
The sound of a faint whimper is heard coming from behind me. I force myself to turn
despite the building fear that happens to be eroding my chest.
It's a woman.
But that didn't quite surprise me. She's probably another woman who got recruited
