TRAPPED BY THE MAFIA
My throat elicits a loud scream, my chest tightening with sorrow, my hands going over my mouth to muffle the continuous screams escaping my lips.
“Oh God! No. . .no. . .no. . .wha. . .at have you done?!”
No.
No.
No.
It’s my friend. Iris. She’s hanging upside down, her skin ripped apart and darkened as though she was deliberately burnt, her eyes wide open, mouth hanging apart, leaving bare her teeth.
She is dead.
God, no!
Bile rushes to my throat and I let it. I’m hunched over, crying, screaming, screeching, emptying the contents of my stomach. And yet, the silence in the room thickens, this time with more tension.
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