The old house groaned with every step, its creaking floors echoing through the emptiness. A young boy, no older than ten, crept quietly behind the man, keeping a safe distance, his heart pounding in his chest. The man seemed to move with purpose, unaware of the boy's presence, leading him deeper into the house's shadows. The air grew colder as they reached a door, and the boy slipped inside, his curiosity pulling him forward despite the growing sense of dread.
Inside, the silence was broken only by a soft whisper that sent a chill down the boy's spine. He turned his head, eyes widening as his gaze landed on the horrific sight before him.
A group of women-pale, bruised, and far too thin-lay sprawled across the room. Their bodies seemed to blend into the darkness, but the suffering in their eyes was impossible to miss. Some were barely conscious, others trembling, all seemingly bound by invisible chains. The air was thick with the sounds of muffled moans, the kind that felt wrong, as if they were not born of pleasure, but of something far darker.
But then his eyes locked onto her. The girl. She was looking straight at him, her face wet with tears, her eyes pleading for help. Her legs were spread, exposed, her body trembling as she cried. "Help me," she whispered, her voice fragile, barely audible over the heavy silence.
Before the boy could move, the man-the man-noticed him. His cold, piercing gaze shifted, narrowing into something menacing. The boy froze, unable to move, as the man took a slow step toward him, his face darkening with each stride. There was no escape.
And then, just as the man reached out, everything went black. The boy's breath hitched, his body trembling as he jolted awake, drenched in sweat, heart racing in his chest.
He got up and reached for a drink, emptying the glass bottle of water, his mind still on the dream. A very terrible dream.