The Tower

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she felt was the marble floor beneath her fingers; icy, unyielding, wrong. It shouldn't have felt this clean, this polished, when the metallic stench of blood saturated the air.

The chamber was vast and circular, lit just enough to be cruel. Shadows clung to the walls, broken only by the fractured glow of a chandelier hanging obscenely high above, its light scattering across the emptiness like shattered glass. Eleven bodies lay sprawled across the floor, hers among them. None of the others were familiar. Strangers, every one.