Disavowed — a Shadowboxer File

Brill studied the woman on the floor.

She stared back, black eyes as dark as his.

Obsidian orbs that belonged to an old soul, ancient and wise.

He wondered what she had to endure to earn eyes that lonely.

But then he knew.

Like an epiphany.

Like a light clicking on in a room.

She had gone through the same thing he had.

The same torture.

The same assault.

A memory of a rebel compound in an Angolan jungle surged from the deep confines of the back of his mind where he kept it locked.

He stared at the young scared girl, their eyes locked on each other and remembered the eyes that made him.

Soft sky blue, the color of a warm summer day.

The light an spark in them fading as she expired in front of him.

Tied to the same table.

Less than a foot between them that might as well have been a mile.

He felt her final breath on his face, the effort of it whispered like a sigh.

Living the same hell.

The girl on the floor nodded.