Your Protector ✓

The air was thick with the stench of fear and decay, clinging to the damp stone walls of my prison. It had been weeks, or perhaps months; time had blurred into a monotonous cycle of dread.
Jane, bless her heart, was a still lump beside me, lost in the oblivion of sleep—her only escape. I envied her, for my mind offered no such sanctuary. The sounds were what truly haunted me, each scratch, each creak, a harbinger of pain. My body trembled, instinctively retreating further into the musty shadows as a familiar scratching began. My stomach clenched, bile rising in my throat. This was it.
“Look at her, she’s terrified!” a voice sneered, laced with cruel amusement. Tears streamed down my face, hot and silent. The barred door whined open, and I gasped, desperate for air that refused to fill my lungs. I didn’t beg. I couldn’t. All I could do was hope that somehow, it would finally be over.
