I recalled the film Buried played by Ryan Reynolds where his character was stowed in a coffin, buried alive somewhere in an Arabian desert. Supplied with only a 2G mobile phone and a lighter, he must comply to his capture's demands to save himself. Unfortunately, the hostage rescue team failed to locate him, so he was left to die.

The film obviously horrifies me every time the thought of it crosses my mind. But I never expected I might die that way, or at least that's how I predicted my death would be when Nick and his team took me to a place unknown to me, which I had no recollection whatsoever of what had happened before.

Turned out it wasn't what I pictured in my head. I was woken up by a cold splash on my face, suspended in the air, hanging upside down by thick loaded metal chains wrapped around my body. Blood had already drained down to my head causing dizziness and disorientation. Even worse, whatever lubricants secreted from my face and from the water splash had travelled into my nostril towards my nasal area which stung my brain. I groaned in pain.

My vision was not only blurry, it was lopsided. I could see that I was brought in the middle of a four-wall space of a building unknown to me. I looked up to see that Nick, G-Wagon guy and Chubby Jason Statham were in front of me, oscillating my bound body on a left to right rotation. They hollered curse words at me while Nick observed my agony from afar. Not only did I feel utter dizziness in my head, I felt like it was about to explode! I felt my previous ingestion flowing down through my gullet for a projectile.

Then, Chubby Jason Statham pounded my torso so hard, I coughed and barfed out at his feet through my mouth and nose. He took a step back, repelled by the vomit splattered on his leather shoe that might leave a permanent stain on it. He whacked me in anger with a metal rod while the G-Wagon guy followed suit. I screamed, enduring the excruciating pain from random rapid slashes of metal bars that came in contact with my body and my head from every direction.

But nothing compared to the pain of seeing Abs split. Feeling shattered, I cried loudly as they took turns whipping me like a piñata until there was no more pain left for me to feel. I soon succumbed to the beatings and surrendered my fate to die. I let them slowly end my life.

But the beating stopped.

"What are you doing? Why did you stop?" I croaked, prying my eyes in confusion. "Just kill me!"

Nothing happened.

I pushed my eyelids to see what was going on but I was too weak to muster a muscle. My head lolled upwards with my eyes fixed to the concrete floor above me. Suddenly, the chain wrapped around my body slowly loosened its grip to release me and I slumped onto the floor. I lie sideways, looking up at Nick drawing near with his two men shuffled behind him. I looked away and continued crying and sobbing, being angry at myself.

"Please let me die," I pleaded.

Nick slowly bent down to a squat in front of me, assessing me with much inquisitiveness. His face twitched and he turned to G-Wagon guy for a gun.

"Boss, it's –"

"Just give me that goddamn gun, will ya?"

He obeyed, then Nick passed it over to me. I felt the weight of a handgun on my palms for the first time before aiming its muzzle on my forehead. Without hesitation, I pulled the trigger while my heart was pumping fast and the consciousness in my head screamed for me to stop!

Click!

Silence.

Click. Click.

Fuck! It's unloaded.

"Why d' you give me an empty gun?" I looked up at him, flurried by my fuzzy vision from whatever lubricants flooded my face; water, blood, sweat, tears, snot.

"Sorry. I'm not gonna kill you today," Nick said with a frown.

I cried even harder this time. I bawled and wailed; my body shuddered in grief. Nick signaled his team to leave before he sat next to me on the cold dusty concrete floor with his knees tucked while taking out a cigarette from his breast pocket and lighting it up.

"Why didn't you kill me?" I asked again.

"I don't kill suicidal people," he said, inhaling burned tobacco through the filter and exhaling clouds of smoke through his nose. "Where's the fun in that?"

I didn't reply but continued to whimper.