Chapter 128 Memory
- Angel.
- The cell was quiet except for the distant drip of water from some leaky pipe, steady as a ticking clock. The walls smelled of rust, sweat, and defeat.
- I sat there, my back against the cold concrete, staring at the faint crack that ran across the ceiling like a scar. That crack became the anchor of my thoughts, because if I didn’t latch onto something, I’d unravel completely.