Exits are supposed to be liberating, right? A light at the end of the tunnel, a door to freedom, or whatever motivational crap people like to say. But this? This exit? It was the opposite of liberating. It was terrifying.
The corridor leading to the building's exit was dark, damp, and smelled like something had died there—probably because something had. The emergency lights flickered every few seconds, doing more harm than good. Every time they blinked off, my imagination conjured up all kinds of horrors waiting in the shadows.
Alex was ahead of me, moving with the kind of purpose that made me want to hit him. How could he just walk through this nightmare like he was taking a casual stroll? My leg throbbed with every step, and the tranquilizer still hadn't fully worn off. My movements felt sluggish, like I was swimming through molasses.
"Keep up," Alex barked, his voice cutting through the eerie silence.
