Weston's pov
My arms strains against the tight ropes strapping it to my back. I rolled my shoulders to free some of the ache in there. I tried some controlled breathing techniques that I'd practiced over the years. What will I do first when this is over? I should check out that something despair. I can't tell how many days it's been and my head is losing a few of the thoughts it seems irrelevant. Blood rolled off my open wounds. It doesn't hurt, I'm numb to the pain. Felt worse things than physical pain, I don't understand why people make it sound so bad. Now the emotional pain, that can kill. But it's also irrelevant.
The room is pitch black. There are no sounds. It's just me, bound to my thoughts. My very boring thoughts might I add.
A knock alerts me, Lincoln. I know it's him. He's
