Crash III: There's No Place Like Home - Plot & Excerpts
Michael yelled as they tore the tape from his mouth. It left behind a throbbing sting like it had taken his skin with it. Tears blurred his view of the room. He’d cried the entire way to the warehouse. It felt worse this time around. The first time, he didn’t have a clue what to expect, and he’d had a sliver of hope in his heart. The room may have been gloomy, but he still caught the glint of the long blade in the man’s hand. Michael lifted his bound wrists away from the bottom of his back to make his job easier. It was one of the men who’d thrown him on the truck; the oldest man of the three. Although Michael glared at him, the man didn’t return his stare. With one tug of the long knife, he cut Michael’s wrists free. Despite the throb in his hands from having the circulation cut off, Michael grabbed his burning face first. Touching it sent a sharp sting tingling across his jowls. Without looking at Michael, the man left the room, and Michael watched the large steel door slam shut.
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