A light shone in my eyes. Blinding me. The hand on my arm tightened its grip. Someone else grabbed the other arm. There were grunts. Shouts. I was being pulled backwards, dragged along the concrete floor towards the back of the breeze-block room. My heart pounded furiously, right up in my throat. I wanted to yell out, but my voice was trapped somewhere deep in my head. I tried to pull away from the hands that held my arms. But they dug in harder. And then the light dropped and I looked up, blinking, trying to adjust to the darkness. My throat tightened. Ben was standing in front of me. His face was twisted with fury – every muscle tensed, teeth bared, eyes wild. “You little shit,” he yelled. Wham. His fist rammed into my stomach. It was like all the air had been sucked out of me. I doubled over, pain radiating out from my belly. The two guys on either side of me jerked me upright.
