Chains
Elizabeth stared forwards with the look of a tourchured soul fresh from hell, plastered onto her face. It took a while for her hazel-brown eyes to adjust to the low lighting through their narrow squint but she was soon able to make out her surroundings.
She sat on the cold stone floor, which was ridden with foul smelling, unknown substances, and counted 4 stone walls, one door and no windows. The thick, rusted iron door stood directly before her with a large mechanical lock, daring her to give it a try. It providided her only source of light through its meagre window that was smeared with grime, and provided a pitiful description of the room.
It wasn't long before Elizabeth realised she wore chains around her wrists and ankles, the clunky, medieval kind that screamed bad news ; this was when her blood began to freeze over and her heart began to quicken as thousands of electrostatic needles climbed up her spine.
The encroaching footsteps caused her muscles to seize up like a badly oiled machine and she felt as though her body was shutting down. Playing dead. The large lock was jolted to the side with a banshee-like squeal and Elizabeth's light was blocked by a dark figure with a low grumbling breath.
"Your turn"
