Roman rejoined us, his fists clenched, his gaze burning with rage as if blaming us for forcing him to do this. It was brutal to leave her there like this. If he could, he would have kicked every one of us right then—and we would have accepted it gladly. We could only offer him apologetic gazes.
By the time her screams for freedom finally died down, only light sobs remained. Her tear-streaked face pressed against the bars as she slid down, collapsing to her knees in helpless surrender, mumbling weakly for someone to free her.
He turned away, standing apart from us, his rigid posture radiating fury.
Her screams for freedom and the desperate rattling of the door went on until they slowly died into faint sobs. What remained was the broken sight of her tear-streaked face pressed against the cold iron bars as she slid down, collapsing to her knees in helpless surrender, whispering weak pleas for someone—anyone—to free her.
