When I was handed the image, I reached out to pull it closer to me, but the handcuffs, attached solidly to the interview desk, cut into my wrists and I was only able to catch the eyes of the plain-clothed detective on the other side.
He seized the image and thrusted it angrily into my sweaty, trembling fingers.
“Do you recognise this woman?” He grunted.
I tried to find some words, any words, but they were locked in and hidden between conflicting accounts of what might have happened.
I noticed that the plastic had been torn around the nose, just before the image was snatched from me and slammed face down on the interview desk.
As the desk vibrated, I suddenly awoke but the fear hadn’t dissipated.
I was drenched in sweat.
Blinking rapidly I tried to surface from the nightmare but tied spread-eagled on the vile smelling mattress I realised that my predicament had only shifted.
A male voice from behind me shouted.
“Tell me about the woman!”
A fist connected violently with my jaw.
I awoke once more.
Hanging from the ceiling, spinning slowly, rope cutting into flesh.
When was all this going to end?
Darkness fell swiftly.
—- 000 —-
This is my entry to Sunday Photo Fiction, written from our cruise ship docked in Civitavecchia, Italy