I ran, salty tears running down my dirt stained face. The cobbles of the road made me lose my balance easily and they were catching up, fast. All I can remember from then on for the next six hours was the reflection of my horror filled face staring down into the murky waters of the puddle that was responsible for my entire future.
Slowly, I awoke. Everything was fuzzy, the walls, floors and chains. When my eyes came to focus, it struck me. Here I was, sat helpless in a dungeon that was wetter than the Amazon tied down with chains cutting through my skin like daggers. My 'room' was no bigger than a dog house and the walls were mesh and electrical wire. Moving was hardly an option. I looked to my right. There lay a room, smaller than my own with cut chains and an engraved message in the walls: 'Run.'
I pondered the meaning, there was nothing else better to do. Run could mean many things. There was the obvious choice, I needed to get out of here, fast; the other choice being that... There was really no other choice.
Suddenly, a tiny scuttle of paws and a miniscule squeak let me know the terrifying: there were vermin. It wasn't as if it was unpredictable, I was trapped in a basement or dungeon or something, not a palace, but my germophobia was coming to get the best of me, considering there was no visible cleanliness source except that of the spider webs. Mam had said that if I ever cut myself, I should reach for the nearest spider web for its 'antibacterial properties.' This information would be useful to anyone without arachnephobia. Basically anyone bar me.
I was awoken from my fearful thoughts by a panging pain in my ankle, as though a spear had gone straight through it. To my dismay, a similar fate had occurred. The chain binding my feet had been washed with salt water, which inevitably cuts it through you faster. I looked down. My flesh was almost visible and blood began to trickle down my purple-ing foot.
That's when I passed out for the second time in that day.
