Third person POV
The silence after the memory ends is almost louder than the memory itself.
It’s strange how pain can linger even when the wounds are not your own. Elias had told the story so many times in his head over the years, each time with different shades, different voices, different angles. But saying it aloud… or rather, letting it live again in his thoughts as the seconds ticked down to the end, it tasted different now.
Bitter.
Heavy.
Final.
The cold metal chair beneath him vibrated faintly. A hum beneath the floor, steady and terrifying. The floor wasn’t solid. Concrete, maybe, but hollow underneath, wired, packed, prepared for destruction. A single bomb, maybe two. Enough to bring the entire place down.
He couldn’t see the timer, but he didn’t have to.
“Five more minute
