Seven months.

That was how long it had been since that day the operation had went south.

You had grown accustomed to the terrible smell of the cell you were kept in. You were once in better shape, but had since become basically skin-and-bones. You had learned to endure the pain brought upon you, and you learned how to avoid it. You felt as if this was your final resting place, forever. And you had accepted that.

But as you begin to drift off after another day of suffering, a loud crash and gunshots are heard in the distance, as well as shouting in a language you can recognize, for once. You jump out of your so-called 'bed' and immediately run to the door with the strong glass window. You peek outside to see soldiers running by, but one of them is simply speed walking, analyzing the area.

His gaze meets yours as he looks around and walks up to your cell. He stops with a face of slight disbelief.

It was David.