Chapter 15

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Everything was still.

Everything was quiet.

And everything was dark.

Well, almost. Save for the very faint, blue light streaming in.

Most would find it serene, peaceful even. A perfect night. They would lay their heads on their pillows, quickly drifting off to dreamland.

But not you.

No, you found it disturbing. Shadows all across the stones seemed to come alive, mocking you. Waiting for the opportunity when they could get you, dragging you down to the depths of hell with them.

You laid completely still, trying to keep your breathing as silent as possible. It only added to the silence, but you dared not make a sound.

Your (H/L), (H/C) hair was sprawled across a pillow, a dirt-matted duvet tucked right beneath your chin.

As if the blanket could save you from the monsters who wished to hurt you— as if the blanket could save you from him.

Your body shivered from the mere thought of the man, a noise aside from the constant leaking of water somewhere in the basement had you hiding underneath your blanket like you did when you were younger.

Tears pooled in your eyes as you tried to calm your shot nerves.

You couldn't, though.

Not with the pictures of Michael beating your mind, loud and droning. You knew Michael was coming for you.

He always did.

Hesitantly, you lifted the fabric just enough so you could peek through, gaze playing at the rough, cylindrical brick walls that were covered in scratches.

More precisely, fingernail scratches.

Your fingernail scratches.

There were piles of rubble and twisted scraps of metal around you that reached out like figures lurking in the dark, and the only company you had here were squeaking rats.

Orbs now locked onto the the only way in and out, a metal ladder, you lost track of time as you continued to stare at it— not daring to move, not willing to breathe, you simply stared.

You had no idea how long you kept doing this until you deemed it safe enough to go back into your little safety cocoon of sweaty blankets.

Your whimpering had all but long been sucked out of this depressing place and even though the coast was clear for now, you knew it wouldn't stay that way.

Holding your fingertips up to the faint light, you saw that the first layer of skin over them had regrown; it was your own fault for clawing away at those bricks as a means of escape.

But you stopped trying after a handful attempts when all you got out of it was pain.

Pain in the form of a blade slicing away at your skin, pain in the form of being choked until the colour of your lips turned blue, the list went on and on.

There was no way to tell how long it had been since you fell off of the face of the earth to spend your time in this crappy... Dungeon. It was slowly but surely draining everything out of you, until the point that functioning felt impossible.

You'd fallen into a bit of a depression...

Which was a big understatement.

You were mentally thrashing every single minute of the day, telling yourself how unfair it all was, and how unfair it was that no one from the outside world had even tried to find you.

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