When he crossed the border back into North Korea, Simon knew he might one day die for preaching the gospel. He never expected to be murdered for working too slow.
The overseer angled his boot so the kick landed on the underside of Simon’s ribs. Simon raised his hand before the blunt side of a shovel smashed down into his cheek. His vision deserted him, and blood spurted out of his nose. He tried to turn his head, but his fellow prisoners now joined the attack, either emboldened by the overseer’s example or too frightened to show any mercy.
Hannah’s name was on the tip of his lips, but he refused to utter it before such vicious brutes, men stripped of all dignity until only animalistic instincts remained. He was the weakling. His lags over the past two weeks meant reduced rations for ever
