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- >You are Celestia
- >And you are in deep shit
- >The last few days have been anything but easy
- >But compared to the situation you are in now, they were a walk in the park
- >Despite not believing in a higher power of any sort, you still have a feeling that you are on some God's shit list
- >It seems losing your job, your home, and, quite possibly, your life savings wasn't enough
- >In addition, you are now lying on a dingy mattress in an equally dingy basement, your hands and feet bound with thick coils of rope
- >From what you can see in the weak light provided by the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, your kidnapper has gone off somewhere
- >Despite everything that's happened to you, you thank whatever celestial being has decided to put you into this situation for finally being alone
- >Your kidnapper, whoever he is, spent the last hour or two gently stroking your hair and, for some reason, taking plaster casts of your face
- >To tell the truth, you have no idea how long you've been in the basement
- >With nothing to accompany you except your kidnapper and the low hum of the TV facing away from you, you've lost track of time
- >Sighing, you try to wrap your head around the recent events, and especially why they're happening to you, of all people
- >The cracking paint on the ceiling sadly offers no answers, and you are left wondering
- >Why you?
- >What have you done to deserve this?
- >Just what is this man going to do to you?
- >Rape you?
- >Torture you?
- >Kill you?
- >Unbidden, your heart rate picks up, the frantic beating in your chest sending you even more on edge
- >You find yourself hyperventilating as you desperately look around for something, anything, to aid your escape
- >Instead, you are greeted by the hollow eyes of white plaster masks hanging on hooks and lines, the disembodied faces languidly twirling in the stillness of the basement
- >You don't know why, but there's something taunting, almost mocking about them
- >'Go ahead and try.', they seem to say
- >'You will never escape.'
- >'You're going to die in here.'
- >Unable to take your eyes off the alabaster mockeries spinning around, you come to a chilling realization
- >They are all different
- >Staring at the masks, lulled into a morbid trance by their twirling dance, you start noticing more details
- >Details that you hope to God you can forget
- >They all look fairly young, the oldest just above thirty, at least from what you can tell
- >More disconcertingly, however, the youngest seems to be a cast of a ten-year old's face
- >Shuddering, you take a deep breath and manage to tear your gaze from the visages surrounding you, your stare landing on the ceiling again
- ''Calm down, Celestia. Calm. Down."
- >Your whisper breaks the oppressive silence, and you instinctively curl up, hoping that nobody, or nothing, heard you
- >Desperately trying to calm down your pounding heart, you close your eyes and try to recall some of the breathing exercises you learned in yoga
- >Despite the dank air in the basement, the breathing exercises work, and your heart slowly starts calming down
- >After a minute of lying with your eyes closed, taking in the low hum of the TV and the buzzing of the boiler somewhere nearby, you open your eyes again
- >According to what you've read, the first thing to do in a survival situation is to stop panicking
- >Taking slow, deep breaths, you feel the haze of panic finally relinquish it's grasp
- >The second priority is making a plan, whatever good that will do you
- >Blinking a couple times to clear your eyes, you take stock of your surroundings again, deliberately keeping your gaze from the pasty white monstrosities slowly dancing in the air
- >To be honest, there's not much that would be of use
- >The walls are mostly bare concrete, with newspaper clippings adorning the wall across from you
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