Prologue
TW: Torture
I jolt awake at the sound of a bone-chilling scream.
The air is thick and suffocating, reeking of blood, sweat, and agony.
Where am I?
What is this place?
Pain surges through my body. As my eyes adjust to the dim, damp room, a wave of dizziness washes over me. Blurred figures shift in the darkness —women. So many of them. Chained.
Another scream. Shrill. Terrified.
My heart lurches. I force my aching body to move, my vision swimming, my skull throbbing with pain.
That’s when I see her, a little girl covered in blood and mud, strapped to a chair. Her small hands tremble violently, whether from fear or exhaustion, I can’t tell. A man is standing before her, holding a glowing hot iron.
My breath catches in my throat.
What is he going to do with that?
The sickening sizzle of burning skin fills the air as he presses the iron into the girl’s arm, followed by another agonized wail. The scent of burning flesh clings to the air, thick and nauseating.
I start shaking, my pulse faster than ever.
N-no…
What kind of hell have I woken up in?
I try to move, to run, to stop him. But the moment I jerk forward, the cold bite of metal stops me. I look down.
Chains.
Fuck.
My wrists and ankles are chained to the filthy ground beneath me. I thrash against them, the heavy restraints rattling, digging into my skin, but it’s useless.
I can’t escape.
I try to remember what even happened, how I got here, and whether I saw the entrance or exit of this place. But nothing comes out of it, instead a sharp, blinding pain rises in my skull. I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut as my headache worsens, pounding like a hammer against my temples.
Nothing. No memories. No answers.
Ugh...
“That’s what happens to little liars.”
A guy with blonde hair and baggy clothes walks toward me, his grip firm on the whip. I notice that one of his eyes is covered in a black eye patch, but the other is locked onto me, curious.
I instinctively step back, but my body collides with the wall.
I’m trapped.
“Pl-please let me g-go,” I plead, thinking he’ll listen.
“Uh-huh not so fast beautiful.” His voice is raspy, laced with something unreadable.
The guy tilts his head, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Run.Run.Run
That is what my brain tells me, yet I can’t due to these ridiculous shackles.
