This is organized.
That’s when the sound starts.
At first it’s just static—low, crawling, everywhere at once. It feels like it’s inside my skull instead of the corridor.
Then breathing.
Slow. Ragged. Panicked.
My stomach clenches.
That’s not machinery.
That’s a man.
The breathing stops.
A second later, a scream tears through the walls.
It’s short. Abrupt. Cut off like someone snapped a switch.
My entire body locks.
No.
No, no, no—
They didn’t do this before.
Not like this.
Another sound replaces it—metal scraping, chains rattling, a low thud that makes my chest vibrate.
Someone is being dragged.
Someone resisting.
I press my forehead to the cold stone behind me, forcing air into my lungs. Don’t imagine faces. Don’t assign names.
That’s how they win.
The scream comes again—different pitch this time. Younger. Desperate.
Then silence.
The lights snap back on without warning.
My vision blurs from the sudden brightness. I blink hard, fighting nausea.
Across the corridor, I see movement.
A door slides open.
They drag a man past my cell.
I only see him for a second—but it’s enough.
Bare feet scraping uselessly against the floor. Head lolling. Arms shackled in front of him instead of overhead.
