• First I was in a blinding white room and now I’m in a dungeon. The cells are separated by white stoned walls. The floor was black concrete and there were red stains in the corners. My arms were shackled together behind me. I looked through the bars and see other cells. All of them were occupied by bone skinny people wearing dirty ragged clothes that seemed as if it was burnt by fire. There was a separate cell that was isolated in the center of the dungeon. All four of its wall were bars so that everything within was perfectly visible to the outside. I gulped as I stared in, seeing a humongous, black, boiling pot. There was a hooked chain over it that connected to the ceiling. Swords, axes, and spiked clubs rested inside a weapon rack. There was blood splattered on the floor, some dry and crusted, some freshly new. I cringe at the smell of rotten flesh. That cell is for torturing.
    “No, no!” one of the prisoner cries out as someone comes toward his cell.
    That someone—a guard I think—had no shirt on and wore black pants. His muscles were enormous; he’s someone you wouldn’t mess with.
    “Don’t, please!” the prisoner begs once the guard unlocks the bar door and enters the cell. “I don’t deserve this, anything but this!” he goes on yelling and pleading.
    The guard grabs him by his shirt collar and tosses the prisoner out. He skids on the floor, face first. The guard picks him up and tosses him again, this time into the torture cell. Another guard joined. He had on the same black pants and wore a jacket with the sleeves torn off. His features were covered by his hood.
    I looked around and noticed that the other prisoners backed up into a corner, all staring, wide eyed, body trembling. I don’t blame them. I was really scared too.
    The first guard lifted the weeping prisoner by his shackles and placed it on the hook. He dangled inches above the boiling water. The steam slightly burned the sole of his feet. He lifted his legs higher to avoid further pain. The second guard pulled a red lever that connected to the floor. I didn’t know what it was for until the chains on the ceiling lowered, making the prisoner do the same. My heart dropped and my breathing stopped. His cries of pure terror pierced my insides as I watched him enter the scorching pot. Then his screams were echoed by mine. I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t. Seeing someone being cooked alive is inhumane and gruesome. Both of the guards whirled to me. The one with the hood came out of the torture cell and headed for me. He opened the barred door, wrapped his hand around my neck, and lifted me up off my feet with incredible strength. I stopped screaming, my throat ready to break. My eyes bulged—pulsed. It was my left eye, the one that the needle went in to inject the black liquid. It was unnoticeable after I blacked out but now it hurt like hell and I couldn’t do anything to show it. Then everything starts to get blurry, slowly fading to darkness. My entire body feels like its being sucked inside, like my blood and mind is racing towards one part—my heart. Once my insides drained away, my body went numb and I blacked out, again.

    I hear the sound of soothing waves. I open my eyes and see a clear blue sky. The sun was bright and dazzling. I sit up and notice that I was lying on sand. I’m at a beach. I yawned and stretched my arms over my head then froze. I looked up and see no shackles. Instead I saw cuts and blood. The skin on my knuckles was torn bad, like it was used on a grater. I scan myself to see if there were any more injuries but there was none, just ripped clothes that looked like it was made by sharp blades. I started to sigh with relief then stop. I was in a dungeon, a dungeon! Someone was being boiled alive. A guard was choking me to death. Am I dead? No, it can’t be. This place isn’t Heaven and it sure isn’t Hell. How did I get here? I blacked out, then what?
    Pain jolt through my body, hot, boiling, like acid. I clutch my arms and grit my teeth. Then someone or something inside my mind talks, its voice cold and venomous.
    Be grateful that I helped you escape.

    -To be continued-