PALATES OF HELL

KATRINA

“Perfect…”

It was the voice of a woman, or what should be one. The tone was thin, weak, and fading more with every letter she pronounced. Icy cold fingers were poking my stomach and that was what initially brought me out of the temporary coma.

Apart from her disturbing voice, I also heard the sound of thick liquid dropping into more liquid. It was quick, like a drop every two seconds and as my eyelashes slowly moved, I felt numbing pain around my wrists.

My whole body hurt but that could be ignored, compared to how my wrists felt. My back wasn’t lying on a bed—unfortunately—I wasn’t even lying down. I forced my guttering eyes open and was punched with nausea.

The cave I was in looked like it had been dyed red. There was no entrance and no exit that I knew of. I was only in my underwear and my nose couldn’t pick up any scent.

My hands and legs were bound to the walls by chains in a crucifixion pose and icy fingers poking me stopped. I didn’t find the woman the eerie voice belo