Mara woke to someone slapping her in the face. Her head felt foggy as sweet aftertaste filled her dry mouth. She slowly opened her eyes to a place she didn’t recognize. Her breath hitched and she could hear the blood rush in her ears as her heartbeat picked up. The fuzziness in her head started to dissipate as she began to panic, the voice was familiar but she couldn’t make sense of it. “Wake the fuck up, Mara. The sooner we get this over with, the better.” Brock’s voice seeped in a rough, threatening and irritable way. Wait... Brock’s voice? How can it be? Oh, God! No! My nightmare continues. Mara finally peeked up to see Brock standing in front of her. She sat in a chair with her wrists zip-tied to the arms of the chair and feet secured to the chair legs. Her holding cell appeared to be an abandoned building in the midst of completion. Bare walls surrounded her as the smell of concrete filled her nose before she saw the floor covered in a grey dust.
