THE GAME BEGINS
I’m trapped in this nightmare of a house. The place stinks of rot and smoke, every breath burning my throat. It's cold — too cold— and the lanterns barely light up the room, leaving these creepy shadows crawling up the walls. Feels like the house itself is watching me.
I’m tied up tight in this stupid metal chair, wrists bruised and raw from struggling. Blood's already starting to drip, but I can’t stop pulling at the chains. Not that it helps. My body’s screaming at me to give up, but I can’t. I won’t. Lysander will find me. He has to. He always does.
Footsteps. Slow, deliberate. And then she walks in — Miranda. God, she looks like she stepped out of some gothic horror show, all black dress and heavy makeup, her lips blood-red against her pale skin. She’s twirling a kn
