The sound of blood splashing in the floor echoed around in the room. The smell of dried blood was all over. The clacking of chains could be heard every now and then. They would have a pattern like they were trying their hardest not to hurt the person with them on. A cough was heard. And it kept on getting worse.
“Where. Is. He? Where. Is. He?”
Was the question of the year. It was repeated over and over again. It bounced off the walls. Got absorbed into the floor and then resonated in the air. However, the one who created them did not stop. His voice was weak and from the looks of it, he was dehydrated, so his voice was scratchy. It sounded like pieces of glass had walked all over his throat. Yet, he did not stop.
He called over and over again. He still wanted an answer. He was not sur
