Time had lost all meaning in the crushing dampness of the cellar. Chloe Bishop felt her consciousness fraying at the edges, the cold beginning to lull her into a dangerous, hypnotic lethargy. Through the fog of sleep, she heard it—a faint, rhythmic rasping of her name echoing from the lightless void at the end of the corridor.
"Chloe... Chloe..."
She scrambled to her feet, her stiff joints popping painfully. She stumbled to the iron bars, gripping them with white-knuckled desperation. Any voice was a lifeline. "Who is it? Who’s there? Help me!"
Far down the hallway, a flicker of white appeared, swaying like a rag in the wind. "Do you want to leave?" the voice whispered, sounding both hollow and intimate.
"Yes! Please, take me away from here!" Chloe cried out, her heart hammering agains
