3. [WP] "What seperates you and death is this piece of paper."

[WP] "What seperates you and death is this piece of paper."

How many days had it been now? Seven? Eight? Nine? No it can’t have been nine. It was definitely the sixth day when they started the burning. Before the burning I’d thought they’d done their worst. Now I know they’ve done their worst. There cannot possibly be another pain like that. Can there? And was that only yesterday? Does it even matter anymore? I was so close to giving in. To think, if they knew, just one more minute of that and I would have caved. I would have told them. Was it mercy? Will they believe me? Maybe they’ll give up. Maybe they’ll think I’m unbreakable. They’ll let me go soon. I’ll be free and this will all be over. I’ve survived this far, it can’t be for nothing. The swelling around my eye has gotten smaller. I can almost see out of it again. The throbbing around my ankles has become more of a dull ache now. I’m quite thirsty, but they’ll soon bring more water. I’m afforded that much. Were those footsteps? Definitely footsteps. And definitely more than one pair. This could be good or bad. So far it’s always been bad. It’s the same guys as last time. And no Vincenzo. This is definitely bad. Oh fuck no, the blow t—

“OK! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you! Please! I’ll tell you where it is! You can have it! Please! Just...”

Before I even knew it, it was over. I’d lost. It was all for nothing.

“My grandfather’s house. 6 Primrose Hill. Under the clock on the mantelpiece.”

And now my own clock starts ticking. Once they've got what they wanted they'll be done with me. How long do I have left? As long as it takes to pick up a winning raffle ticket and collect an espresso maker, I guess.

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