38 History Repeats
The darkness enveloped me again, and this time I smelled a rancid and sticky smell, and the bitter cold forced my eyes open. I saw a pair of black leather shoes appear in my sight. Someone pulled my hair behind me and I had to look up.
In the dark cell, Ron was sitting on a chair with his hands folded over his chest. There is a world of difference between his shiny appearance and the smelly prison. But he didn't seem to mind. He waved, and the guard, who was holding my hair, walked out of the cell. He stood outside the door with his back to Ron. The electric baton and the key that hung from his waist flickered in the corridor light.
"Gina's baby is dead!" Ron looked at me with hatred. "You killed her baby!"
"Is that what she told you?" I looked up and sneered. History repeats itself. I couldn't escape it.