The wall.

The mucky, stained wall was what her eyes had been fixed on.

Observing different patterns, bloody patterns, and dangerous weapons on it had been her

prime interest since last week. Those different patterns would often divert her attention

from the human body hung from the ceiling. Her face was purposely kept toward her, her

eyes staring at Sheharzaad—staring deep into her soul, stealing all the life left in her. Her

feet were dangling in the air, her hair sprawled open. Her skin was ...