PREVIEW
... y mouth shut, my mind a jumbled mess of thoughts threatening to spill out as incoherent babble.
Instead, I turned my gaze to Kyle, who lay sprawled on the ground.
His fingernails had been ripped off, a testament to the brutal torture he had endured.
Cuts, deep enough to be agonizing but shallow enough to avoid being fatal, marred his arms and thighs.
Yet, Kyle seemed to be conscious.
He met my gaze and spoke, his voice raspy.
“You made it?”
...
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