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The torturer jabbed the hot poker into the sole of the man's foot and twisted. Smoke rose up from the man's bubbling flesh. The small room smelled like cooking meat.
The man writhed in his restraints. But he stared past the torturer to the far wall. With his face still contorted in pain, he smiled.
The torturer looked over his shoulder. The wall was nothing but bare brick. "What are you looking at?"
The man didn't answer. He kept staring at the wall, where the woman he loved was leaning against the brick. Back from the dead.
