The cold, damp cell walls seemed to close in on me, each moment stretching into eternity. My body ached from the beatings, but the bruises and cuts were nothing compared to the gnawing fear that threatened to consume me.
I glanced at Tommy, the little boy who was taken along with me. His wide, terrified eyes mirrored my own fear. Despite the circumstances, a strange bond had formed between us, an unspoken understanding that we had to look out for each other.
Tommy was huddled in a corner, shivering from the cold. His tears had dried, but the tracks they left on his cheeks were still visible. I crawled over to him, my movements slow and painful. "Hey, Tommy," I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady. "How are you holding up?"
He looked up at me, his lip trembling. "I'm scared, Elena," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.
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