"Mom..." Isabelle sobbed.
She didn't know where she was. Her mother had been dragged away by some monster. The blood from her mother's stomach was smeared on the floor.
She didn't fully understand what had happened. Flames flashed in her mind, then... falling, falling, falling... then her mother's scared voice telling her to keep quiet and to follow her, a blade flashing in her rough hand.
They had walked all the way here, until something pounced at her mother, and...
She sobbed harder.
Her surroundings did nothing to calm her fear. She was in the middle of a dimly lit room, the torches on the wall the only source of light.
And yet, the flickering flames caused the shadows to dance, hindering her attempts to make out if there were any things hiding in the shadows, or if it was just her fear making her see things.
Her small, seven year old body shook in the firelight.
The coppery smell of blood was heavy, sickening.
Her stomach growled, her lips cracked from thirst, her dress tattered and bloody.
Small plants curled around the stone blocks the room was made of, water dripping from the ceiling.
There were four doors, one where they had come from, one where her mother was dragged to, and two more leading to the unknown.
She focused on a little plant that sprouted between the cracks of the stone. Living, despite being in this horrid place.
Her hand trembling, she reached into her backpack, closing her small hand around the handle of a too small knife.
Her fingers curled around the knife, clinging to any semblance of safety.
She strained to listen for footsteps, breathing, anything to alert her to any unwanted presences.
Isabelle could still hear her mother's last words, screaming, shrieking at her to live.
She heard footsteps from the direction they came from. Soft, but definitely there.
She tried to stifle her sobs, knowing she did not stand a chance against whatever it was.
Fear, cold and sharp, settled in her stomach.
Then she remembered her mother's screams, her last words.
Still sobbing, she peeked upwards, bloody strands of her hair shielding her face. It was a man, fear etched into the lines of his face, haggard and stumbling.
But he was holding a long knife in his hand, and he was advancing towards her with a determined look in his eyes.
Seeing the knife, Isabelle stilled.
If she didn't try, she wouldn't survive this, she knew.
But her mother was dead, and she was hungry.
She pounced.
Isabelle stabbed her knife into the man's wrist, forcing his fingers to splay, dropping his knife.
She didn't notice until now, but her teeth were long, thin, and razor sharp.
She didn't care.
All she knew was that she was hungry.
And that this was the enemy.
She ripped out his stomach with her teeth.
And lowered her head and feasted.
I write like shiz, and have no idea how to order the paragraphs in a story, or how to describe anything but then again I whipped this up in 15 minutes at 2 am so of course it's bad.
