Dear Camila (Camila/you)

Chapter 25

Iran

It has to have been 12 days now. My leg is getting worse, soon I won't be able to walk on it. There seems to be no sign of Nick and the troop or even a murmur of concern of troops in the area.

Are they dead?

Did they not make it?

I couldn't fathom the thought of my best friend being dead. Maybe they were captured too. Then I would need to find them I would need to get out of here.

The latch on the heavy clicks and signals one of two things. Torture or water and bread.

I didn't want either.

The torture was escalating and I had nearly passed out from the drowning the day before. It had been a close call.

And the water, it's contaminated I can tell by the smell and the bread is basically penicillin it's so mouldy.

I pull my legs in on myself and stand up preparing for the worse. I never went willingly with these assholes I always put up a fight. I had my knife in my boot but it wasn't the right time to use it yet and if I tried now I would likely lose the knife and my life.

In walked a woman in a hijab I was shocked. They had never sent a woman before. Perhaps this was another of their tactics.

She approached but didn't look at me. She placed the cup of water and plate of bread down on the floor and started to recoil.

" Wait" I couldn't help myself "سلام!" (Hello in Farsi) She turned and stared at the ground under my feet.

"English?" I tentatively asked.

She nodded. Shit maybe she was a jihadi bride they could be just as dangerous. She looked up at me and our eyes locked. Something in them told me she didn't want to be here. Not just in this hole with me, but not in this entire situation.

"What's your name?" I asked gently.

"Mira" she whispered.

"Hi Mira I'm y/n thank you for bringing these for me" I wouldn't eat the bread and I wouldn't drink the water but I needed to make a friend here an, ally. My level of desperation was hitting rock bottom.

She nodded. She turned to leave before stopping and turning back, she opened up her cloak. I thought this is it, this is where I die in a hell hole with a bullet to my head.

She pulled out a water pouch. She brought it over to me.

"Drink, that water they give, it's from the lake, it's bad" she was still whispering.

I knew it, that is why I never touched it, that's why my lips are cracked and sore, why my head is constantly pounding and that's why I have no energy.

I nervously eyed her. Was this a trick did it have poison?

I decided I had suffered enough and took my chances.

I took it from her and greedily drank it. I went to hand it back careful to leave her some. It was still hot and fresh water was not easy to come by.

"No please, all" I nodded and within a matter of seconds I had drunk the entire thing, making sure to get every last drop.

"They don't know your here" she whispered.

"The British think you are dead" with those two sentences all my hope was gone. No one was coming for me.

I nodded and stopped myself from crying at the realisation that I had been left to rot. I was feeling a number or emotions, pain, sadness, anger and dejection.