The Pale Tower
The vibration in the floor of Cell 402 was not a sound so much as a pressure, a low-frequency hum that sat behind my teeth and rattled the bones of my skull. I had been in the sub-basement of Blackwood Penitentiary for six months, a federal agent serving a confinement sentence that felt less like punishment and more like a slow, bureaucratic burial. My hands were clasped in my lap, fingers...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima