Emily Pov
"Where's Amy?" I demand to know, my voice laden with anxiety, anguish, and anger. Nina, in turn, presses the cold blade of the knife against my throat even harder, a burning sensation erupting as my skin opens and blood begins to trickle down.
A click of the tongue resonates in the now overly crowded cell as Nina humorously dismisses my question. I struggle to feign submission, letting her believe she's in control of the situation, that I'm indeed her hostage.
"You're not in a position to question anything, sis," Nina responds by my ear, her voice dripping with malice.