The girl's heart pounds in her ears, blood rushing, sweat mingling with the cold that's still clinging to her skin.

Her legs are heavy, her movements slow and stiff, but the rush of adrenaline fuels her onward, each shaky step taking her further into the gloomy, tight passage.

The walls are covered with dark stains, the air thick with the scent of iron, flesh, and decay.

The guttural hum of the butcher's breath echoes behind her, like the sound of something slowly coming to life.

Carcasses dangle from meat hooks, their forms twisted and grotesque.

Human torsos, skinned and mangled, hang like some kind of artwork, faces frozen in eternal expressions of terror, their eyes wide, pupils dilated.

The girl barely catches her breath as she stumbles past a severed head—lips stretched into a grimace, half-chewed flesh still clinging to its bones.

She barely has time to see it before she's pulling herself past another human body—its ribs exposed, its lungs still slightly pink and shiny, and there, the cut where the heart used to be, still fresh.

She shudders, trying not to look, not to dwell on the grotesque details.

Not now.

Her breath is ragged, but she pushes on, the sound of her footsteps almost lost in the echoes of the butcher's leisurely pursuit.

Behind her, the butcher moves slowly, her footfalls deliberate. Not in a rush, not desperate—no.

This is controlled, measured.

The butcher is in ecstasy, on the verge of tears, but she holds herself back.

Barely.

The girl can almost feel the butcher's anticipation, her hunger, it's palpable in the air like some heavy, suffocating weight.

A predator, savoring the chase.

The girl's mind races, thoughts fragmented.

She has to find a way out. She has to—

A clanging sound shatters her thoughts.

She skids to a halt, narrowly avoiding tripping over a discarded limb, still wrapped in its butchered skin.

Her eyes flick around, frantic. There—another corridor. A light in the distance, barely visible, but it's hope.

She forces herself toward it.

Come on, come on.

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But then—a laugh.

It's soft, sweet, almost dreamlike, but it cuts through her, freezes her in place.

The butcher's voice is thick, barely controlled.

"You think you're fast enough?"

The girl's breath catches in her throat.

She doesn't dare look back, but the feeling of her presence is there, thick and intoxicating.

The butcher is close.

The girl moves faster, forcing her legs to obey, her vision narrowing.

The air seems to thicken with each step she takes, the walls pressing in, the space growing smaller. A dim light from ahead flickers, teasing.

Freedom.

But no matter how fast she goes, it's like the butcher is always just behind.

She can feel it in the air.

She can hear the whisper of the butcher's breath, shallow and hungry.

"Almost there..."

The butcher's voice is a low growl, filled with lustful anticipation.

"I can smell your fear. It's so overwhelming. Do you feel it?"

The girl's eyes dart around the corridor.

A door. A rusty, half-closed door at the end. She pushes toward it, barely able to stand. She's losing her grip, but she won't give up. Not yet.

Then—the sound of footsteps.

Slow, heavy.

The butcher is right behind her now.

She can hear her breathing, feel the heat of her on her neck.

The girl tries to reach the door, but her legs are failing her.

Her breath is ragged, panicked.

Her body is not meant for this kind of strain.

The adrenaline is fading, and exhaustion is settling in, her limbs heavy and aching.

A scream of frustration rips from her throat.

She turns, her vision blurry, her heart slamming against her chest.

She sees the butcher, standing just a few feet away, smiling sweetly, her eyes half-lidded in pleasure.

Blood smears her cheeks, her hands coated in the red viscera of her craft. Her chest rises and falls in rapid, shallow breaths.

"You're so close." The butcher's voice is thick with affection, almost tender. "I can taste it. I can smell it."

The girl's vision blurs further, but she's almost there. Her hand is reaching out for the door handle—

But then the butcher moves.

She's there, suddenly, too close. The girl barely has time to register the butcher's hands on her, pulling her back, her body lifted off the ground. The butcher laughs, a sound of pure joy, her face flushed with ecstasy.

"No, no, no..."

The butcher hums, a soft whisper.

"I'm not done with you yet, sweetheart."

The girl is held tight, her body rigid with fear, but she's too weak to fight back. She can't escape. She's trapped.

The butcher's lips curl into a smile, her red eyes sparkling with a manic, almost loving desire.

"You've made it all the way here," the butcher says softly, her voice thick, almost syrupy.

"Let me reward you."

The girl's body trembles, eyes wide with desperation.

She barely has time to scream before the butcher's hand clasps over her mouth, her fingers pressing tight.