"Where did Isolde go?" Leonel muttered under his breath, his voice filled with disbelief. "The one who got violated is me. How come she was the one running away as if she had been the one taken advantage of?"
He lay there, half-buried in sand, still unable to move anything but his head. The sun had shifted slightly, but it still shone directly above him, warming his face while the rest of his body remained trapped beneath the heavy, damp sand.
He let out a long sigh.
"What kind of life is this…" he whispered.
Just as he was about to complain again, a shadow suddenly fell over him.
Leonel squinted.
A familiar figure stood above him.
"Ah! There you are!" he said quickly, relief washing over his face. "Where did you go?!"
He sniffed the air.
"Wait… is that liquor I smell on you?" he added, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Anyway, get me out of here—"
He stopped.
Mid-sentence.
Isolde's face… wasn't right.
