25
Gwen sat next to Ian, watching for any sign of movement. It had been nearly four days and he hadn’t moved a muscle, not even when a man had dug out the bullets, not even when they were tossed in this makeshift prison she believed to be in Sierra Leone, and not even when she begged. With the meager amounts of water she was given, she made sure to drip as much as she could into Ian’s mouth without choking him.
Her father was locked in the cell with them and back to his old self. In the quiet room, they had spoken at length. Her dad wanted to be filled in on the last ten years of his life, as well as hers. He couldn’t seem to apologize enough. She finally forbade him to utter another word. This wasn’t his fault. It was Duvine’s.
Gwen felt a movement next to her. She looked down to find
