She clutched the stool with shaking hands, her knees trembling beneath her. It swayed with her movements.
She let go, stumbling towards the wall and pressing her head against the frigid, pale pink paint. Her bare arms were covered in goosebumps, but heavy sweat dripped down her face, soaking her shirt.
Laughter echoed in her head and from downstairs, the source unclear and beyond her reach. She fell to her knees, still leaning against the wall. They would find her soon, in minutes or hours.
They would find her defeated, with terror in her eyes.
Den of Thoughts 