CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT : HIS KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOUR

It's a funny thing, you know? Life. He winced as blood trickled down the large crack on his head. His face was gradually getting painted in a colorful mixture of dark red, and sweat, as the gash on his head kept on oozing out blood. A sharp terrifying pain slashed through his head, and he groaned out loud. His eyes were seeing double, not that there was much to see anyway. He had been left in a dark room, for days now. How many? He tried to think. Two? Or maybe three at the most. Hands tied behind his back, legs clamped shut with strong barb wires that pierced through the flesh on them. His jean was soaked, no doubt. While his head kept on pounding, his stomach shook violently like a volcano. For the few days he had been kept in that dark basement, without his will, he had not been fed a single grain of rice, or even given stale, dry bread. A cup of water was the only nourishment given to him. He had his occasional visitor who had only come to see him twice. Logan could rem