Red

The oppressive darkness was a physical weight, pressing in from all sides. I lay still, every muscle screaming from disuse and terror, my breath held tight in my chest. From somewhere nearby, a voice, calm and unnervingly close, sliced through the silence.

“It won’t be long, now.”

My heart hammered against my ribs. Footsteps, slow and deliberate, began to approach, each one echoing the finality of a death knell. I squeezed my eyes shut, tighter than I thought possible, bracing for the inevitable. A low rumble vibrated through the floor, followed by an blinding flash of light that pierced even my tightly closed eyelids. Then, a sudden, brutal jerk as two sets of fingers seized my ankles, pulling me roughly from the floor. He dragged me forward, towards the light, before releasing me with a sickening thud. I remained sprawled on the cold floor, feigning unconsciousness.

“And here she is.”

A sharp, cracking sound exploded beside my ear, forcing a violent flinch. My eyes snapped open, revealing the blurry outline of a figure hovering over me. A laugh, deep and guttural, resonated in the confined space.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice dripping with anticipation.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. He smirked, then stepped away.

“She’s ready.”

Slowly, agonizingly, I turned my head. He stood by a wooden ladder, gazing into the lens of a small black camera. On a nearby computer monitor, my own prone form was displayed, a horrifying spectacle. He walked to a desk, picked up a small, closed pocket knife, and turned back to me. My eyes widened, fixed on the smile spreading across his face as he took a step closer, flipping the silver blade open.

“Ready?” he whispered.

My muscles coiled, every fiber screaming in silent protest. He lunged.