SeamusQuick

The room was cold with dark, bleak walls surrounding a small metal table in the center. A single light hung from a thick wire directly over the table. A chain rattled as a hand reached for the head of its owner. The hand wiped sweat from his head then fell back to the table.    Its owner was a man with thick hair and a clean shaven face. His clothes were ripped from knife wounds that were mostly healed already. He hasn't been here long. He looked to his left and noticed himself staring back at him. He pondered his reflection in an attempt to remember why he was here.    A door he neglected to notice bangs open with hard f