Chapter 95 FATHERLY FUGURED

• EMERY GRACE CONRAD'S POV
• When I regain my consciousness, it was the cell that greeted me. Apart from those rusty bars, I have the young boy as a company. Both of our feet in shackles, while our hand are hard-bound towards the attachment on the walls. There are grievance. The smell of death and sufferings is what I presumed radiating from this entire place. It reeks of hell. A life deprive of hope, and anything else that could have matter.
• I turn to wake the young boy.