It was shriveled and bony, not his, furthermore it seemed he was wearing plain white clothes that were not his.He searched for a mirror or just a clea... surface that can reflect his appearance.The room was small, with two meters of floor between walls and a little over three meters to the ceiling. Despite its petite size, its two sharp corners were dark and only the round third caught a bit of light from ceiling and the single sealed window.Standing up, he noticed his legs were bounded by bulky. "God damn it Rockwell get the fuck off of me!" My fists pounded in his chest then I felt a cold piece of metal touch my face and I was staring down the barrel of Sergeant Rockwell's 9mm Beretta. His thumb flicked off the safety and I pleaded with him to stop. "Oh my God, don't! Please Rockwell, please don't do it!" Then I started to cry... and he stated to laugh."Oh that's just fucking great, a little tap on the chin and a gun in your face and you're crying. Yup, you're my superior officer. More

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