Amara glanced outside at the small village with farmiliar scents and a feeling of nostalgia tugged at her chest, almost ripping it apart. At first glance, it looked like every other village, but until two years ago, it had been home to Amara and her family. It felt different coming back, not as welcoming. It was not her omther with a kind face and soft hands guiding her, but an older woman with calused skin pulling a dark blindfold tightly over her face and tugging at her arms, the shackles on her legs tearing into her bloody flesh. It took her a moment to adjust her eyes when the blindfold was lifted, and longer still to realize she was home, but it didn't feel like home anymore. It was hell.
While her pupils adjusted to the light, the farmiliar scent of the mud walls wated into her nostrils, and she gasped for a moment, taken aback. It seemed too sweet smelling now, almost to the point where it was sickening. Her eyes scanned the room and she quickly noticed the man sitting in his office chair silently, back turned towards her. He motioned for her to sit, but there was no chair for her, only dirt. Amara shifted her weight from side to side. His hands slammed the table, and she did not take any chances, sliding into the soft dusty soil quickly.
"So," he called in a menacing tone, his hazel eyes shifting from side to side, "Why are you here?"
"Why am I here?! You come here to bring me halfway across the country to tell me you don't know why I'm here?!"Her words were cold but quiet. The man pondered for a moment, leant towards her and whispered,
"I know why you're here," and scoffed, "but your mother didn't."
Amara clenched her fists, but she knew she was powerless against the rebels and her own government, but she didn't know which this person was. With her emotional struggle, she collapsed to the floor and darkness slowly enveloped her sight until it was all black. Pitch black.