The Pale Circus
"Did you sign it, Sergeant?" The voice came from the dark, dry and stripped of inflection, like a hand dragging a dry cloth across a table. Elias Thorne opened his eyes to the gray hum of the fluorescent lights, a sound so constant it had become the texture of the air itself. He was lying on the thin mat of his cell in Sub-Level Four, the concrete floor cold against his cheek, and in the...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen