Transfer of Power

ANNA RIELLY FELT weak. Her captors had allowed her to go to the bathroom around eleven, and Rielly had been able to grab several handfuls of water from the sink while she was in the bathroom. The water hitting her empty stomach had made her realize just how hungry she really was. The terrorist with the slicked-back hair had again followed her into the stall and watched her. Back in the White House mess, Rielly looked up from her uncomfortable position on the floor and noticed him gloating over her still. She wondered when he would strike, and if he would do it alone or with the others. Her vision started to blur.

Lowering her head, she brought both fists up to her eyes, fighting the tears before they started flowing uncontrollably.

She could handle anything but this. Would it be better to die? she honestly asked herself.