❝ in your basement i grow cold, thinking back to what i was always told ❞
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30. two-headed mother
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍. It was all Ingrid could feel. It consumed her — raw, unrelenting agony coursing through her body, clawing at her insides, spreading like fire through her veins. It gnawed and tore, each wave worse than the last, until it felt as though she might split apart. Her breath came in shallow gasps, the sound barely audible over the pounding in her ears.
She groaned softly, her lips trembling as she forced a word through the haze of pain. “Dad?” Her voice cracked, fragile and hoarse, barely more than a whisper. He was always there when she needed him — always. Scraped knees, broken wrists, even when she tried to push him away, he’d stayed. But now…
Ingrid forced her heavy eyelids open, expecting to see the familiar sight of him rushing to her side. Instead, she was greeted by a suffocating darkness, thick and unyielding. It stretched endlessly, pressing in on her like it had weight, sinking its claws into her lungs and cutting off her air. She coughed weakly, the sound muffled and dry, the darkness itself swallowing her voice.
The floor beneath her was damp and slick, the warmth of it unnerving against her skin. Her cheek stuck to the mud and filth, her hair clinging to her face in wet, tangled strands. Slowly, she shifted, trying to rise, only to feel cold, unyielding metal bite into her wrists.
Chains.
Her breath hitched as panic swelled in her chest. She tugged at the restraints, but they didn’t budge. Every movement sent sharp, stinging pain shooting up her arms. Tears slipped from her eyes, unbidden, streaking down her dirtied face.
When her vision finally adjusted, she saw that the room wasn't completely dark, though it may as well have been. The faintest glimmer of light cut through the oppressive gloom. A small, filthy window, high above, cast a sickly glow that barely reached the ground. The cobblestones beneath her gleamed wetly, their uneven surface slick with something viscous.
Her stomach twisted.
Was the sky outside red? For a moment, she thought it might be her imagination — a cruel trick played by her mind — but the faint glow creeping through the window seemed all too real. It was the same blood-red sky from her nightmares, the one that left her waking up in cold sweats.
The pain searing through her body flared, pulling a strangled cry from her throat. It felt like something was alive inside her veins, burning her from the inside out. Despite the agony, Ingrid gritted her teeth and pushed herself upright, her back hitting the rough cobblestone wall with a gasp of relief.
Her surroundings came into sharper focus as she steadied herself, and three realizations struck her.
First, she was in some kind of room, though it felt less like a space meant for people and more like a tomb. The walls seemed to pulse with an unnatural heat, as if they were alive, exhaling a humid, stifling air that clung to her skin.
