37. Not so Secret in the Dark
Louis
The muddled waters of my mind still made the images of the dungeon clear. Men were strewn on the floor and wall as if rugs hung out to dry. Mewling and groaning of pain addled my ears and gripped my conscience. The nearest person to me was the man chained to the wall. Not through, but on the wall. My exhausted body still leaning for support, and he is there because he is being punished. He has to be there.
His head hung with blood dripping on the floor, which made me notice how soaked the floor was with blood but there were little indents on the stone floor to let the blood flow down the drain. It reminded me of something, but I couldn’t find the word till much later. When I reached the room where they hang them by their feet.
An abattoir.
I vomited
