RYAN ONE WEEK LATER The stench hit first, then the smell of rotting flesh and disinfectant. I instinctively raised the collar of my shirt over my nose, but it didn’t help. Nothing could mask the decay. Ricardo stood beside me, his face pale but composed, one hand resting on the wall for balance. I told him he shouldn’t have come, not yet, but he insisted. Said he needed to see. So here we were. Staring down at the man who once made our lives hell. Rafael. If you could even call him that anymore. He looked like a shadow of what he once was. Bones jutting out beneath thin, papery skin. His face was gaunt, his cheeks sunken in. There were wounds on his arms, some stitched, some festering. Tubes ran in and out of his body, the machines beside him working overtime just to keep him breathing. He looked… dead. But he wasn’t. Not yet. “They’ve been passing fluids through him every day,” I muttered, unable to look away. “It’s the only reason he’s still alive. He hasn’t had solid food
Last Updated : 2025-06-28 Read more