Reader's consciousness stirred, his eyes fluttering open. The first thing he noticed was the suffocating darkness around him. Shadows stretched endlessly across the room, broken only by faint beams of light sneaking through cracks in the boarded-up windows. The air was damp, carrying the distinct smell of mildew and decay.
He lay on the cold, uneven floor, its surface rough and gritty with dust and debris. The room felt old—ancient, even—like it had been abandoned for decades. Crumbling walls bore the remnants of peeling wallpaper, and cobwebs clung to every corner, swaying gently in the draft. The faint drip of water echoed in the silence, punctuating the eerie stillness.
Reader tried to move but quickly realized his mouth was gagged with a coarse cloth, the taste bitter and musty. His hands were bound tightly behind him with rough rope, the fibers digging into his skin. The restraints bit harder with every slight movement, leaving him with no choice but to remain still for the moment.
A faint groan reached his ears. Turning his head cautiously, Reader's eyes adjusted to the dim light and focused on the figure across the room. Erica. She sat slumped against the wall, her legs outstretched, her hands tied behind her back much like his. Her head hung low, her hair messy and obscuring her face, but he could see her breathing steadily.
Reader's thoughts raced. 'What the hell is going on? Why is she here too?'
He began testing the ropes binding his wrists, twisting his arms and wriggling his fingers. The fibers scraped his skin painfully, but he gritted his teeth beneath the gag. His movements were slow, calculated, and desperate.
Suddenly, a sharp pressure slammed into his back, sending him sprawling onto the ground with a grunt. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, leaving him momentarily stunned.
"Don't try anything funny, kid," a voice growled behind him.
Reader craned his neck as best he could, wincing at the ache in his body. Standing just out of his peripheral vision was a man in the wolf mask. The mask's design was stark and menacing in the faint light, with narrow, black slits for eyes and a jagged pattern around its mouth. The man loomed over Reader, his posture relaxed yet radiating authority.
Reader glared up at him, his breathing uneven from the sudden blow.
"You think squirming like that's going to help?" the man continued, his tone mocking. He crouched slightly, the edge of the mask catching the dim light. "Stay put, or things get a lot worse for you."
Reader's muscles tensed, but he froze, his mind scrambling for a plan. He glanced toward Erica, who had lifted her head slightly, her expression as calm as ever despite the circumstances.
'Why isn't she panicking?' Reader wondered.
The man in the wolf mask straightened and turned his attention toward the door, seemingly satisfied with Reader's compliance. Reader's eyes darted around the room, searching for anything—a sharp object, a loose nail, anything—that could help him escape.
The room offered little hope. The floorboards were warped and uneven, and the only furniture was a rickety table shoved against the far wall, its surface covered with tools that gleamed faintly in the dim light. Reader couldn't make out what they were, but their sharp edges glinted ominously.
Despite the fear twisting in his stomach, Reader felt a flicker of determination. He wasn't about to let these masked men keep him here, and he certainly wasn't going down without a fight.