Rena
I can't breathe. The room feels smaller with each passing minute.
"Help," I whisper, though I know no one can hear me. My lungs struggle to pull in enough air as panic squeezes my chest.
Sweat covers every inch of my body. The thin dress I'm wearing sticks to my skin like a second layer. One moment I'm burning up as if with fever, the next I'm shivering uncontrollably.
"This can't be happening," I say to the empty room. My voice sounds strange to my ears – hoarse from screaming and weak from exhaustion.
Death is coming for me. I can feel it hovering in the corners of this tiny prison, watching and waiting.
The darkness presses against my eyes. No windows, no light except for the faint glow from under what must be a hidden door – a door I haven't been able to find despite hours o
