The pitch-black hue imprisoned Jane inside her fear of darkness that she sucked her breath to keep alive with the intermittent wails her mouth made. Her sobs hit the wall and bounced back to her ears.
On the door, her torso leaned which slowly dropped to the floor in surrender to her distress. Her cry of begging for help did not leave her lips until unconsciousness conquered her; her whole body fell on the floor.
Without Jane's knowledge, someone, with her ears c*****g on the door, was ensuring that Jane, the woman she had despised since their first encounter, was in big trouble. She covered her chuckles once Jane no longer made any voice inside there for she might have met the perils of being defeated by her dread of mice. Those animals were what most women were afraid of, she thought.
