I was dropped unceremoniously, and my arse hit water.
“Me fuckin’ back is screamin’,” groaned the one called Scottie.
“Yet all I can hear is your whinin’.”
The pair bickered, but I heard very little. Pins lanced every inch of my skin where the water breached my trousers and blouse. Pain surged so intensely behind my eyes it made them bulge. My wrists ached beneath their bindings.
Rope, it seemed. The scratch was familiar, so was the smell of damp earth. The air was thick with it. Somewhere nearby, a canary sang.
While the men argued, I lifted my bound hands and rid my face of the blindfold.
Weak lantern light. Rotting wooden frames. The intermittent drip of water through the ceiling. The ceiling was so low.
Tunnels, I thought, and a wave of nausea followed.
“It’s a quarter till, Sc
