𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙀𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨: 𝘽𝙤𝙤𝙠 1
"I'd love to see you in a pretty silk dress"
"Would you?"
"So I can tear it off you"
"If you rip my pretty silk dress I'll blacken your eye"
____________
Marya Prescott may appear innocent on the su...
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I awaken to find my hands bound above me, dangling from a meat hook. While I may not be the largest individual, the weight of my own existence and the harshness of reality cause a searing numbness to spread through my arms. The burden of my body and thoughts presses down so heavily that it feels as if my limbs might be wrenched from their sockets. To add to my torment, a relentless pounding echoes in my head.
I am Marya Prescott, and I never claimed to be lucky, and especially I never wished for more than I already had. But I still ended up being the prey to someone's predator.
The last thing I remember was walking out of the cemetery after managing to evade one lunatic, only to find myself captured by what appears to be another deranged individual. Currently, I find myself in an endless chamber, filled with the odors of blood, rust, and death. Beneath that, a chilling, putrid scent lingers just within reach as a faint breeze carries it towards me.
My shoulders ache under the weight. I twist my wrists, testing the coarse rope, hoping for a way to break free. The movement causes me to spin slightly, like a bird on a spit, yet the knot remains tight and stubborn. Swallowing the remnants of my fear down, letting it burn down the walls of my body, I fist the rope and pull myself up in an effort to relax my shoulders, the strain in my tired muscles triggers a surge of hot, sweaty discomfort, pushing me back down, swinging helplessly from side to side. With my head bowed low, the dim light reveals a deep pit of darkness below me, the true abyss.
The abyss of darkness. A relentless, haunting void that stretches into eternity.
I stretch my toes in a futile effort to reach for the solid earth, yet all that greets me is another chill of frigid air.
I have a deep fear of darkness, have I mentioned that before? When I'm at home, heading towards my bedroom, I make sure to switch on every light along the way. I only turn them off once I spot another source of light that makes me feel safe, leading me to my nightstand where a comforting strawberry nightlight from my childhood sits there, steadfastly glowing through the night, no matter what.
The nurses in the ward expressed their concerns about my habit of leaving the light on, claiming it disturbed other patients and unnecessarily inflated the electricity costs. Yet, they quickly realized that it was far more prudent to bear the burden of a higher energy bill than to witness and deal with a nightly mental breakdown.
A nauseatingly familiar sensation of realization grazes my shoulders, prompting me to take a deep breath as my entire body becomes rigid.
I summon the last dregs of energy within me to twist my neck, surveying my surroundings only to be faced with my own terror.
My own overwhelming terror consumed me entirely. Typically, I would jest in the presence of death, but now death has arrived to claim what is owed in the shape of my own private nightmare. I am the prime target of hell, it's a wonder how I have yet to meet my end.
