Welcome to my Nightmare
Drip, drip, drip water dripping in the darkness, splattering on her hair, dripping down her face, slipping down, soaking her clothes slipping further, drip, drip, drip, pooling at her feet.
This couldn't be happening. It couldn't. She'd been in here for minutes, hours, days, weeks... so long she'd lost count, this tiny corner of hell had been bone dry, dry, dry, dry. And now, now the water was rising fast. So fast. Too fast.
Her fingers sought out the source of the leak, her fingers scrabbling against the stone, nails breaking, but there, in the darkness, the source of the leak couldn't be found. The water had reached her waist and was still climbing, a relentless drip, drip, drip.
How could this be happening?
A sudden jolt sent her into the wall, the stone slab behind her, bricks and mortar, pushed forward, squeezing her, squishing her, sandwiching her between this wall and the next.
She was going to die. Cold and alone in the darkness.
What was that?
She stumbled, the wall behind her, suddenly not as close as it had been, her body felt heavy, like it was going to crash through the floor at any moment, trap her, encased in the earth below.
Whispers erupted from around her, voices whispering nonsense slipped through the cracks in the mortar, "Lucy Goosey, screws all loosy...."
"I'm not mad!" She screamed, her hands flying to her ears, desperate to block out the noise, "I'm not mad!" she screamed, screamed so hard her whole body seemed to ache with the effort.
There had to be a way to make it stop. There had to.
And somewhere, in the darkness, a voice whispered, "Anything?"
YOU ARE READING
Lucy wakes up in the rundown Blackthorne Asylum, a patient among the lunatics, unaware as to how she got there or her life before she opened her eyes. The only things she knows for sure are her name and that she needs to escape.