Leaving the girl’s cell and continuing down the hallway, 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 looking at me. His eyes were bleeding, his eyelids torn. He was staring at me intently.

"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, with two digits painted in 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, that was a relief. Knocking three times, I pressed my ear against the door again. Noise. There was someone inside. Yep, there’s no way I’m entering that place. Not after what I've 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. Voilá. What was the chance of this being the real, final exit?

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

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: Footsteps. 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 naïve 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 great happiness, after crossing a pompous hallway, I arrived at a small bedroom. This appeared to be a butler's or a maid's room, considering the size. Inside the closet, I found some simple trousers, a white linen shirt, and some white socks. Unfortunately, no phone or computer. 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.

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.

Going back again to the room with the big table, there remained only one way unexplored: the large open doorway in the center.