Roger
The cult marches me through the bowels of the cruise ship, the cold steel of the handcuffs biting into my wrists. Every step feels like a lurch toward my fate, and I can feel their eyes boring into me like laser beams. There are no words spoken, no questions asked. My captors are resolute in their mission, and their grip is so tight and merciless that I can barely lift my arms.
I stumble, and they yank me forward, a chill running through me as I realize what"s happening. There"s only oppressive darkness and silence—except for the relentless beat of my heart. I"m a prisoner of fanatics, with no clue about my future. Every step takes me closer to the unknown, dread filling my veins at what might be waiting for me at the end.
The corridor is narrow and dark, flashing red emergency li
