Rest had become a forgotten privilege, and this was a rare time in which she could treasure it. The basement she was chained up in reeked of blood and rotten flesh. The blood - definitely hers, and by deduction, the flesh was a combination of other victims.
It wasn’t completely dark. Her screams had earned her a small candle in the farthest corner of the room whose light was harsh to her now unaccustomed eyes. Nevertheless, she watched it, no breeze to make it flicker. The dripping wax never made it past an inch, the cold air made sure it hardened fast.
Amber shivered. The combination of the low temperature and her wrists moving inside their silver chains made her hiss into the silence. The entirety of her body felt numb. She’d been strung up like a piece of meat in a butchery.
She was so stupid to come here alone, to find out about all those mysterious deaths. But she’d been seduced by her striking face and enticing words. Now she’d never make it.
Muffled laughter came from upstairs - a celebration of some sort. Possibly a party? Amber didn’t even bother to yell out. Do not ask. It will not come. Those words had come with every beating. Every slap. Every bite. Every broken bone.
It could be today, tomorrow, or next week, but she knew she would die here.
There was a creak of metal. Loud. Forced. An in-experienced entry. Amber cast her gaze up. There was a figure on the stairs, surrounded by a strange yellow-ish glow. Sunlight, she concluded after a moment. It was day.
"Well," her own voice was foreign to her ears. Harsh. Frighteningly needy. ”You’re new.”