Leaving the girl’s cell, I continued down the hallway with a guilty conscience. Nonsense, I admonished myself, focus on calling for help, Rio. Focus.

  Soon, I came across another metal door, identical to the previous ones. Placing my ear against it and straining my hearing, I heard nothing. Proceeding, I slowly cracked the door open and peeked inside.

  It was pretty much identical to the other two cells. There was a small difference, however. The chains binding the person in the center of this room seemed thicker. And the smell... Urgh, the smell coming from the room was also horrendous. The man- I paused. Oh my God, what had they done to him? His back was completely raw, and he had no hair. As I moved closer to look at his face — Jesus. His eyes and mouth — they... they were stitched shut.

  By the movements of his bloodied chest, he appeared to be breathing. I softly touched his neck to check for a pulse. Everything seemed to indicate that he was alive. Turning to the chains and looking around the rest of the room, I remarked on the differences. These cuffs were considerably stronger than the ones back in my cell. Why? Kneeling beside the man, I checked his fetters. His ankles were bloody, and the metal pressed painfully against his skin. Lifting my gaze, I—

  "AAAAAHHH!" Screaming, I fell to the ground.

  He was... staring at me. His eyes were bleeding, eyelids torn.

  "W-what, what, y-you—" I stammered.

  He began to thrash, grunting uncontrollably. The chains rattled and clanked, straining to restrain him. My God, what is this?

  Was this really... a man? Oh no, oh no no no. Something macabre was happening here. I needed to leave this place. Now.

  Leaving the cell in a hurry and closing the door, I continued in the same direction down the hallway. I passed by another door but didn’t open it. I kept moving forward, passing one door after the other. The chains rattled at my feet, the sound of my ragged breathing bounced off the walls, and before I'd even noticed, the hallway ended. Dammit.

  In front of me was an unpolished stone wall, two digits scrawled in faint chalk: 01. I turned to the nearest door, on my right. Could this be the exit? Unlikely. Following the pattern so far, this... this was probably another cell.

  Should I enter? My instincts said no, but I had to check, so I settled on something in between. I placed my ear against its surface and listened... Nothing. Silence. Okay. Knocking three times, I pressed my ear against the door again.

  Noise. There was someone inside.

  Yep, there was no way I was entering this room. Not after what I'd witnessed back there.

  "I am sorry," I said, taking a step back. "I promise I'll get help."

  Turning around, I left the door behind and started jogging in the only remaining direction: backward. I passed by the rooms I didn't check, not in the mood to try my luck. After what probably was five minutes of only darkness and echoing footsteps, I arrived at a spiral staircase made of stone. Voilà. What was the chance of this being the real, final exit?

  I climbed slowly and carefully to avoid making too much noise. What greeted me upstairs was simply another empty small room, similar to all the last ones, made of stone and full of dust. 'Sigh'

  Looking at the ground, however, I noticed something: Footprints. Thanks to the dust on the ground, they were easily visible. And they led... there. A wooden door. This was it: the exit. Pulling open the creaking door, I was faced with... another door? Come on, give me a break. Searching for the doorknob, I realized that there was none. It wasn't a second door; this was a cover. Something was blocking the way.

  Closely investigating, I found clear marks on the ground — straight lines. Was this a sliding door? It seemed to be. After some trial and error, I figured out the trick — pushing and then sliding — and the door finally opened.

  "So it was a door after all."

  Stepping through it, I looked around and saw myself in a very spacious living room. It turned out that the sliding door was, in fact, a bookshelf — what a bad cliché.

  Clearly, whoever lived here was extremely wealthy. A huge chandelier adorned the roof, right above a big mahogany table with fancy chairs surrounding it. The walls were filled with expensive-looking paintings, and the bookshelves behind also gave the room an air of sophistication. The books were all... huh... weird. They were all... Were these just for decoration? I'd heard that rich people bought books by the meter, but this was on a whole new level. Still, the titles should at least be readable, right? I might not know every language in the world, but I should still be able to recognize most of them. Could this all be ancient texts? Dead languages, perhaps? And hold on, why am I in a mansion?

  Too many questions, too few answers.

  I needed to explore, and I needed to do it quietly. I was not na?ve enough to not comprehend my situation. The owner of this house was a monster. A weird hidden dungeon under your huge manor? Yeah, I was not dealing with a human here. Was the staff of this place in it too? Hard to believe, but not hard enough that I'd be trusting them.

  I had to find a phone and get out of here. But before, I had to move; the room I was in was too exposed, with three open doorways. Choosing the one on the left, I started walking. I was still naked, with two weird chains hanging around my feet, so I stuck out like a sore thumb — not the ideal conditions to escape undetected. To my relief, after crossing a pompous hallway, I arrived at a small bedroom with no one inside. This appeared to be a butler's or a maid's room, considering the size and simplicity of the furniture. Inside the closet, I found some simple trousers, a white linen shirt, and some white socks. Unfortunately, no phone or computers. Interestingly enough, no electric outlets either.

  Exiting the room, now decently dressed, I continued my exploration. This side of the place seemed to be just the staff dwellings, where they kept the cleaning and other miscellaneous stuff stored. Nothing useful. Turning back to the dining room, I chose the rightmost doorway, the only one that had a door, albeit open.

  I went through it and arrived at what appeared to be the kitchen of the place. Everything looked so... archaic. A wood-burning stove? Crockpots? Barrels? The place looked as if it was abandoned in a hurry, with food still on the tables and vegetables only halfway cut.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Glancing at the cutlery and the knives on the ground, I shuddered, placing my hand over my stomach reflexively. In my memories, I did just get stabbed by one of those, like, what, three hours ago, maybe? There had been so much blood, and- I forced myself to concentrate; now is not the time, I told myself.

  Bending down and picking up one of the biggest knives, I stashed it by my waist, just as a precaution. I'd left most of the junk I'd brought from my cell in that butler's room, so it felt good to have something to defend myself with. Other than flour, some fruits, bread, cheese, and wine, I couldn't find anything of interest in the kitchen. To my frustration, no phones or electronic devices either.

  Returning to the room with the big table, only one way was left unexplored.

  Going through the large open doorway in the center, what greeted me was an expansive living room. The fancy furniture gave the place a tasteful, classical style. Another chandelier, this one much bigger and seemingly made of crystal, hung high above. Directly ahead, behind open double doors, was another smaller room, possibly an entrance hall.

  The room faintly smelled of aged wood and ash. As I searched for a phone, my gaze flicked to the paintings on the walls. They all depicted the same person: a stoic-looking, black-haired man, perhaps in his forties or fifties. "Is that the psycho who abducted me?" I wondered.

  Crossing the salon, I arrived at the entrance hall. On either side were big, sweeping double staircases, curving upwards and meeting at a balcony on the second floor of the manor. Ahead was the exit of the house. The glass around the front door showed the outside, but the windows were all shut, covered by curtains. By the brightness outside, it was almost dusk now.

  "Okay. Should I get the heck away now, or should I go up?"

  Some things to consider: I still looked like a psycho prisoner who was not allowed within five hundred meters of a school. Furthermore, this house seemed to be abandoned, and, looking outside, I didn't see any signs of civilization. Wherever I was, it was probably isolated or in some sort of super-rich gated community. Leaving without a plan might get me caught, and that couldn't happen — not after what I witnessed down there.

  I should at least check the second floor, though. If I didn't find any means of communication up there, I'd have to leave anyway.

  Decided, I climbed up the luxurious staircase slowly, careful to avoid making too much noise. Those cuffs at my ankles were extremely annoying, not exactly the best for stealth. Upon arriving at the balcony on the second floor, I took a measure of the area. A wide corridor stretched forward, with doors on either side and one at the far end. I went straight to the central door.

  The knob was cold to the touch, and the door was reddish-brown. It led me to a room with a sizable table made of dark wood, furnished in the same classic style as the rest of the house. One detail stood out, however: the room was messier. Still clean, but definitely not as neat as the rest of the first floor. Maybe whoever lived here did not want the staff coming up all the time, or perhaps this place had simply seen more use. On the far wall stood another door, crafted from the same dark, intricate wood as the rest of the furniture.

  To my right, at the center of the wall, stood a big, fancy, chiming clock. It directly faced the table, but the intriguing part was that I didn't recognize most of the numbers. Only the first three made any sense, as they were simple lines (I, II, III) but the rest... That was mildly concerning. Maybe it's one of those stylish clocks made for decoration? They were more common than people thought. I once had a clock in my kitchen that had different images of birds instead of numbers — my grandma was into birdwatching and all the eccentricities that hobby entailed.

  Anyhow, considering that this clock still had 12 symbols and two hands, it wasn't that weird.

  After a cursory inspection, I tried to open the other door in the room. Unfortunately, it was locked.

  Hmm, interesting. If I wasn't mistaken, this was the first locked door I’d come across in this whole house. Not even the cells down in the basement were properly sealed shut. Was someone inside? I didn't think so.

  "Screw it, I’m going in".

  After a few good kicks, the door burst open with a loud "BAM!" and I promptly entered the room.

  "Oh well, would you look at that!" I exclaimed. For once, this bedroom actually looked lived-in.

  The other two rooms on this floor were desolate. Not abandoned, just empty, as if no one had ever used them.

  In my opinion, that was another interesting piece of evidence. So far, everything pointed to this manor being a cover-up. The only areas that showed any signs of usage in the entire house were these two rooms up here and the kitchen downstairs.

  Pacing around, I noticed the strewn clothes near the cabinet, the fancy big bed with silk sheets, the single empty bookshelf (no secret passage this time), the small window, and the hardwood desk with three drawers. Oooh, don't mind if I do.

  The first compartment was full of notes and letters, written in a code or in some weird, unknown language. Useless.

  The second one held... jewelry apparently? A single amulet, with a big, beautiful, blue stone that hung delicately from a golden chain. The gem shimmered with an almost magical allure. Touching it, I felt a soft, sudden prickle in my mind that quickly disappeared. Weird.

  Glancing around in confusion, my eyes landed on a piece of paper in the first drawer. It said- Wait...

  I could read it!?

  What? How? Since when? Unclasping the amulet and looking back at the notes, I gasped: they were back to being gibberish. I clasped and unclasped the amulet repeatedly, watching as the letters shifted from familiar words to complete nonsense in my mind. Impossible.

  Stunned, I looked at the rest of the room while holding the blue gem directly. Nothing else was different. Doubling back to the meeting room with the big chiming clock, I looked at its numbers. Wait, numbers!? Dropping the necklace to the ground and not averting my eyes from the clock, I witnessed the exact moment the symbols stopped making any sense in my mind, almost like magic.

  I picked it back up. So... this was a magical amulet. Yeah, of course! That made sense! Magic! And what about this? I thought, gripping the spherical ornament on top of the desk. And this chair? Where is the fucki-

  Right at that moment, the sphere started glowing a faint whitish blue light. It blinked once, then projected a floating veil of light right before my eyes.

  I stood there, gaping, eyes blurry, until the light faded.

  .

  .

  NO. Nononono. What? What is happening to me? Am I dreaming? Hallucinating? In a coma? Some type of mental illness?

  Shaking and shivering, I sank to the ground.

  Where am I? What is this place? What really happened to me after I was stabbed? What was that stitched-up shell of a person I encountered down there? What-

  My head spun and my stomach churned. I tried getting up using the table as a handhold, but my legs did not work properly. My knees buckled, and I couldn't breathe. Cold sweat trickled down my temples.

  II need to pull myself together, I thought. They will kill me if I stay here. No, dying isn’t the worst that could happen... They'll take me apart. Torture me. Turn me into that... that thing.

  With shaky legs, I forced myself to stand and frantically scanned the meeting room once more. “No. No,” I whispered, “not me.” I picked up the blue amulet from the ground, feeling that tiny prickle in my mind again, and headed back to the bedroom.

  After that last drawer, I was getting the hell away from here.