“Tell me what I want to know.”

You were suspended by your wrists from the ceiling, your shirt ripped open, the toe of your boots just barely grazing the cold concrete floor.

Graves had captured you, and he’d begin interrogating you on the positions of your team

You wouldn’t tell him. And so he hit you

He punched you, and he kicked you, and he cut you, and grabbed you.

Anything he wanted to do to hurt you, to get the intel.

He’d do.