62. The Story of the Merchant
Bernita struggled to open her eyes, crusted with dirt and sand.
The girl pushed herself up from the ground with her slender arms, finding only darkness in front of her.
The teenager waved her arms in the air, trying to grab onto something to steady herself.
A cold, hard feeling spread from her palm.
The girl didn't panic, instead, she inhaled deeply and slowly felt the metal bar in her hand, the rough stone wall, gradually building a mental image of the objects in front of her.
A prison cell.
Bernita continued to inspect herself. Her clothes hadn't been changed, there were no handcuffs or shackles, and no one had searched her, probably because no one suspected a twelve-year-old girl would carry dangerous items.
The last thing she remembered was someone approaching her from behind, then everything went black.
Who did this? Why? Was there any chance to escape?
These were the three questions that flashed through her mind in a split second.