Legs so thick they were wider than both my arms put together.
They weren't just thick; they were grotesque. Deformed. Swollen with an excess of muscle that looked unnatural, as if every fiber had been forced to grow beyond what was possible. The skin—if that was even skin—stretched tight over bulging veins and irregular protrusions.
The figure stood just inches away from me. I didn't know what it was doing.
I covered my mouth with my palm to keep any sound from escaping, accidental or not. I closed my eyes and remained completely still.
A guttural sound, impossible to attribute to any human being, vibrated right above me.
Cold sweat ran down my entire body, and small tears slid from my eyes because of the tension and the inherent fear piercing through me. I didn't know what that thing beside me was, but my imagination filled the gaps with images worse than any reality. The memories of screams and pleas of terror echoed in my mind again and again.
I wanted to run.
I wanted to escape.
I wanted to simply disappear.
But unable to do any of that, I could only stay still, trying to reduce my existence to the smallest possible presence… as if I could make myself insignificant.
And, fortunately—as if the world itself were listening to me—a loud noise echoed in the distance.
The creature reacted instantly.
Its attention shifted. It turned sharply and left the cell with heavy movements. Its staggering, uneven footsteps gradually faded down the hallway until they disappeared.
I remained motionless for several minutes. Even though it was gone, the fear embedded in my bones was so deep that I couldn't even think about moving.
"Are you okay?"
A calm voice, almost devoid of emotion, reached me.
"Come on, get out."
I felt a hand carefully touch my arm, trying to pull me out from under the bed.
I opened my eyes, dirty and clouded by my own tears.
The blond was there.
Alive.
"You're a mess… let me clean you up."
He wiped my face with a dirty cloth, removing some of the tears and sweat.
"Thanks…" I muttered under my breath. They were the only words I could manage after all that.
"We can't stay here. If that thing comes back, it'll only be a matter of time before it finds us and kills us both," he explained as he stood and stepped out of the cell.
I watched him move toward the hallway.
From the entrance, dark stains were already visible on the floor.
Blood.
It was obvious the view outside would be much worse.
I clenched my fists, took a deep breath, and stepped out.
The first thing I saw was a body.
It was difficult to describe without the mind trying to reject the image. The limbs were dislocated at impossible angles, as if they had been twisted without any regard for their structure. Fragments of bone protruded in several places, tearing through the skin from the inside.
The head was crushed to the point of being unrecognizable. The torso, though partially intact, was covered in purple, red, and black stains, accompanied by deep scratches and irregular tears.
The rest of the place was no better.
Similar scenes stretched throughout the cell block. Blood and human remains were scattered across the stone floor, forming chaotic patterns that testified to an incomprehensible violence.
The sight was so horrific it was hard to even process it.
"Don't look at the floor too much," the blond said in an unexpectedly gentle tone. "It's bad for your sanity."
His voice snapped me out of my trance.
A sharp pain stabbed my stomach, as if something were trying to force its way out. I swallowed hard, suppressing the nausea.
"What… what do we do now?" I asked, my voice trembling.
The blond looked toward the dark end of the hallway.
Then toward the other side.
He sighed audibly.
"There's only one way out," he said, pointing toward the only open corridor. "We can't wait any longer. We have to take advantage of the fact that that creature is busy with whatever caused that noise," he explained as he began walking forward.
I nodded and stepped to follow him, but a viscous, unpleasant texture pressed beneath my bare feet.
I froze.
The sensation—thick, wet, and still warm—was so repulsive that just thinking about what I was stepping on made my stomach churn.
I swallowed with difficulty.
"Don't stop. We don't have much time," he said without turning around, ignoring my state.
I breathed slowly, forcing myself not to look down.
And kept walking.
Fortunately, that sensation didn't last long.
As we moved forward, the slickness was left behind and the floor returned to hard, icy stone. The uneven roughness dug into the soles of my feet, sending small stabs of pain with every step.
It was painful in every sense.
But that pain was real, simple, tangible.
And somehow, it helped me.
It forced me to focus on something else, to push my mind away from what I had stepped on… and from what had been scattered along that hallway.
As I was thinking about it, a firm hand grabbed my arm and yanked me sharply to the side, making me fall to the ground.
A groan nearly escaped my throat, but another hand immediately covered my mouth.
"Idiot, focus," he whispered harshly as he forced me to crawl toward a corner.
We rolled until we were hidden behind a stack of wooden crates piled against the wall. Dust rose around us. The blond looked at me with annoyance, but there was also clear tension in his eyes.
Then I heard them.
Heavy footsteps.
Familiar.
Slow… dragging.
The sound vibrated against the stone, each impact closer than the last.
Immediately understanding the situation, I curled into myself and hid as best I could among the crates, trying to make sure not a single part of my body stuck out.
The footsteps stopped.
Very close.
But unlike before, it didn't linger long. After a few seconds that felt eternal, the steps resumed, slowly moving away down the same path we had come from.
We remained motionless for several more minutes, making sure the sound disappeared completely before daring to leave our hiding place.
The blond peeked his head out first, alert to any movement.
"The bastard came back faster than I expected," he muttered quietly, just loud enough for me to hear.