CHAPTER -
Under the harsh Syrian sun, in the unforgiving afternoon, Rey dangled from ropes, his hands bound and raised above him. The air was thick with suffering as his battered body swayed, his face marred by brutal beatings, and blood marked his tortured existence.
Rey's once-strong features were now distorted, swollen, and barely recognizable. Blood, both fresh and dried, painted a painful portrait of his ordeal. His eyes, once sharp, now held a distant glaze, a sign of the relentless cruelty he endured.
The captors, devoid of humanity, reveled in their sadistic game. Their laughter echoed around the desolate surroundings, mixing with Rey's labored breaths.
The air reeked of agony as Rey, standing on unsteady legs, struggled to maintain balance. Each drop of blood that fell seemed
