Azalea
I didn’t think it could get worse. I thought the screams, the blood, and the metallic stench of agony were the worst things I’d ever experience.
But then... the silence came.
The silence was so thick and unnatural that it felt like a heavy weight pressing against my chest, suffocating me.
No more begging. No more tortured wails. Just the soft drip… drip… drip of blood hitting the floor.
My throat tightened as I saw him shift his focus to me, his eyes filled with hunger.
Was it my turn now? My turn to be unmade, to be torn apart until I was nothing but meat and memory?
Terror crept beneath my skin like insects, multiplying with every passing second his gaze lingered on me.
I scrambled backward. My entire body rejected what my mind already knew—there was nowhere to go, nowhere
