Countless tiny thorns pierced my skin, each one like a needle stabbing into me. The searing, relentless pain spread across every inch of my body, making me feel as if I were about to lose consciousness.
I staggered out of the cactus patch, but with every step, sharp spines embedded deeper into the soles of my feet. Cold sweat dripped down my back from the unbearable pain.
Collapsing onto the ground, I started pulling the thorns out one by one. My hands trembled as blood and tears mixed, dripping onto the dirt below.
The pain was constant and sharp enough to torment but never enough to kill. It was a slow, calculated form of psychological torture.
The Hastings Tribe men stood around me, watching like spectators at a cruel show. Some burst into laughter, while others mocked me with jeers and insults.
Just then, Freddie’s phone rang.
He glanced at the caller ID and his expression immediately tensed.
“Sir, you’re back? You’re already at the entrance? I’ll come meet you right away.”
Was it really Albie?
Relief surged through me. I was finally saved.
I lifted my head, a glimmer of hope flashing in my eyes.
But the next second, Freddie’s foot smashed into my face.