|Casmira's POV|
I can't move.
My wrists are bound behind my back, the rough rope biting into my skin, scraping it raw with every futile struggle. My shoulders ache from being pulled taut, and the more I twist and yank, the tighter the knots become. My throat is dry and raw from screaming, but no one hears me. No one comes.
The room is dark, lit only by flickering yellow light seeping through a cracked door, and the shadows stretch long and distorted, crawling up the walls like grasping fingers. My breath stutters when I hear the low, mocking laughter, voices merging into a sickening chorus.
Hands—too many hands—are on me. They're clawing at my clothes, ripping fabric from my body, their touch cold and invasive, pressing down on my shoulders, trailing down my arms, searing against my wa
