Kiara stayed in the bathroom for long, washing the guard’s touch off of her body as well as Zique’s. According to her, they both were the same; forced.

There was nothing that painted Zique any different from them, in fact, he was worst. They were guarding hundreds of cells, but Zique was only guarding hers. How c—

“Hey, Kiara! Are you alright in there? It’s been over an hour.”

Kiara looked at the door, knowing just who stood behind it. It was him; her prison guard, which was exactly why she kep