The cell was suffocating. Dampness clung to the air, a cold, oppressive weight that settled deep into Ava's bones. The stone walls, rough and unyielding, absorbed the little light that filtered through the small barred window high above, leaving her in near-complete darkness. She had been in dark places before, but this was different. This wasn't just a cell—it was a tomb, meant to bury her alive, to strip her of hope and leave her with nothing but the gnawing fear that clawed at the edges of her sanity.
Ava sat in the corner, her knees drawn to her chest, her breath coming in shallow, measured gasps as she tried to keep the rising panic at bay. Every part of her wanted to scream, to rage against the bars that held her captive, but she knew better. Screaming wouldn't help. Screaming would only waste what little strength she had left, strength she needed to survive.
