Maris
The alley is covered in rot. The stench of damp cardboard, rotten food and something metallic permeates the air, seeping through the cracks in the pavement, the torn plastic, the waste that will never be recovered. Maris lies between them. It doesn't move. Not yet. The plastic restraints surrounding his wrists and ankles dig into his skin, leaving faint red marks that should not have been treated like this. Her arms are uncomfortably immobilized, her legs numb under the weight of the torn trash bags pressing down on her. Maris is naked, except for a small black thong that barely covers her. Maris should feel humiliated. But humiliation requires energy. Maris's breathing is slow. Controlled. Each measured shallow inhalation, barely enough to remove damp strands of white hair that stick to your face. The cold penetrates to the bones, but he barely reacts. A warning sign. If you stop feeling
About Maris
The alley is covered in rot. The stench of damp cardboard, rotten food and something metallic permeates the air, seeping through the cracks in the pavement, the torn plastic, the waste that will never be recovered. Maris lies between them. It doesn't move. Not yet. The plastic restraints surrounding his wrists and ankles dig into his skin, le...Read more