The lights fickered on, streaming into her eyes. Salty, water drops, dripped slowly on to her lips. She scoured the room, but the objects were completely unrecognizable. Chains decorated the ceiling, blood splatter, plastered the walls. Instantaneously, her heart began to gyrate inside her chest. She tried to move, but felt glued into place. Hastily she gazed down at her wrists, tied viciously to a wooden chair. Thick and brittle rope, wrapped round her normally subtle skin. So tight her wrists were painted crimson, cutting her more each time she moved.

Where was she? Why was she trapped in this dungeon, on an old, rickety rocking chair? Going back and forth, the rope cut deeper into her skin. She gazed further down and realised metal surrounded her ankles, locked onto the chair. The pain seeped further into her soul, so she tried to steady the rocking. Slowly it began to seize. She looked around once more, counting the chains hanging before her. Eight. Eight more chains beside four more chairs. Were they for more people? If so who, and when would they arrive?

Again her heart began to jump vigorously. Her eyes began to flicker, then suddenly a fog entered the room sweeping around her. Slowly she fell back into a haze. But before she fell completely, a chaos began to fill the room. Noise barged in, with screams and miscommunication, but the fog was too strong. Finally the noise died down, and she eventually fell asleep.


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