The drip-drop of rain vibrates through the otherwise silent cave. Despite the smell of burnt flesh and rotting corpses, I force myself to breathe slowly through my nose, trying not to make a sound. My captor has gone hunting, leaving me to agonize alone, while she seeks another innocent man.

            Warm liquid goop has plastered my abnormally long hair to my neck, merging with the sweat and tears that drip off my quivering chin. It was only moments ago I had slumped from the rusty nails that bound me to the clammy wall, finally becoming free of the stabbing pain that echoed in my wrists. Though the dread has lifted slowly from my shoulders, I cannot allow myself to become overly joyful or permit any hope to brighten more than a faint spark, lest I fail to remain alive.

            After I reluctantly rip a dirty shirt from my dead companions’ carcass and wrap it tightly around my bleeding wrists, noting the nauseating, acrid smell on his freshly peeled away skin, I search for a way out. There is no light to guide me, as my abductor planned, and to strike a match so close to the ominous opening would mean certain death. Stumbling from a dizzy spell, caused by blood loss and the unbearable cold, I continue in my attempt to find an escape.

            I know there is a tunnel, leading further down, and a path leading to a safer place from there, but I am surely dead if I take the wrong route. Without a moments’ thought, painstakingly -because my toenails were wrenched off and my feet had been bathed in bleach- I dive into an entryway; I pray, to whatever higher being, that I have chosen the correct, safe tunnel.

            I sense no added danger; my fear is dissipating, so I must have made the right choice. On I limp, though the piercing sting of each movement is nearly too much for my abused feet, farther down the path to safety. Neither hope nor despair will take over my cautious senses as I stumble upon the natural rocks and crevices, taking in that the monster from above has not been down here in a while.

            Feeling an end to the gentle soil and the beginning of concrete on my throbbing feet, I trace my hand along a smooth wall until I find what feels like a light switch. Knowing I am too far below for the light to be seen, I flick the switch up, allowing room for slight belief in my cold, dispassionate body.

            Blinding light suddenly snaps on, it takes me by surprise, highlighting what seems to be a tiny room. Pictures of my torturer -black eyes with white irises, her hood fallen from her head revealing a shockingly distorted face burnt beyond recognition and razor pointed teeth flashed in a snarl as she glares murderously at the photographer. A shiver makes its way down my also aching back, but not from the freezing temperature. In spite of the terror that flowed through my veins not so long ago, I suddenly feel at ease, like a calm before the storm. More like a cautious relaxing, if that is even possible, wraps around me as I look away from the horrifying poster.

            My ears perk as I hear a crash from above and a shriek as deafening as nails against a school board. Listening for any other noises, I panic- Should I run or wait until the creature leaves? I know both will more than likely have a negative consequences, but I must do something before it gets too late.

            Now, as my heart stops with realization and dread, I can hear the whoosh of her gown as she floats down to what was my final chance. My life is flashing before my swimming eyes, reminding me of all my accomplishments. I turn, quick enough to see her bloody, chapped hand shut off the lights, and all goes terribly black…