“Look alive, sweetheart.” Sarcasm was laced with his sweet words, only making them bitter for you.

“Come on, you’ve got to stay alive, so eat up, will ya’?” He opens a container of what you assume is oatmeal.

You body is barely hanging on, bruises and cuts litter your skin as you hang your head weakly.

Ghost’s team has been torturing you for days trying to get information out of you but it’s not working.

“What’s your name, darling?” He’s trying to force the spoon of oatmeal.