It's been five years.
Five years of torture.
Five years of pain.
Five years of hope lost.
Five years of hatred.
Five years of sorrow.
Five years of hunger.
Five years of eating leftovers… and vomit.
Daniel had broken down within these five years.
He was given food only once a week, and due to the starvation gnawing at his core, he would devour it without hesitation—only to realize, too late, that it was vomit they had served him.
He vomited for three days and nights, nearly spewing out his own intestines. For a whole month, he couldn't stomach any food. His body screamed for nourishment, but his soul no longer hungered.
They didn't stop.
They kept feeding him vomit. And if he refused to eat it—they forced it down his throat.
There were times… too many times… Daniel thought of ending it all.
But what held his shattered soul together wasn't hope.
It was hatred.
And revenge.
If Daniel could get his revenge—then and only then, he would be ready to welcome death.
