I watched as Shasha slept, her body curled tightly on my lap. I had no sense of the time, only the suffocating darkness that surrounded us. Midnight, perhaps... though I could be wrong.

My wounds throbbed, but I forced myself to ignore the pain, clinging instead to thoughts of escape. If this nightmare could just end, I would be in my mother's arms, safe, warm, alive.

A quiet sigh slipped past my lips as I brushed a strand of Shasha's hair from her face. How could she sleep in this? The air was bitter cold, freezing to the bone, yet blankets were luxuries we didn't have.

I stared into the dark, empty and numb, my throat too dry to even scream. That's when I saw him.

He stood there, half-shrouded, half-lit, the faint glow revealing his light-brown eyes locked on me. The sight sent a shudder tearing down my spine.

I hadn't even heard the door open. Had I been that lost in my thoughts?

I couldn't speak. My mouth refused me. Terror grew heavy in my chest as I realized he wasn't moving. He was watching like a predator savouring the sight of its prey before the kill.

His figure shifted, deliberate and confident, as though he wanted me to see him. To know. And in that moment, I understood fully, he wasn't just a man. He was the monster from whispered stories. The beast comes to life.

"Why are you here?" The words slipped out, weak but desperate, my courage brittle as glass.

He chuckled, a low, cruel sound that cracked through the silence. It sent my body trembling. He didn't need to answer. His laughter was the answer.

A sudden flare of light startled me. A cigarette burned between his lips, the glow illuminating his face. My heart stuttered. His skin was streaked, smeared in red.

Blood?

"Are you questioning me, little bow?" His voice filled the room, heavy, commanding. The sound pressed against me, suffocating.

I swallowed hard, the last bit of moisture scraping my throat. The cold around me no longer felt cold; it burned.

Shasha shifted in her sleep, and I froze. For a moment, I wished she wouldn't wake. She couldn't face him. Not like this.

"Funny," he drawled, sarcasm dripping with venom, "how much you care for her."

My hands curled into fists. I wanted to fight the anger, but silence was all I could give him.

Then, without warning, he slammed his hand against the iron bars. The crash echoed like thunder, and before I could blink, he was gone.

Panic clawed at me. Was I imagining it? Was I losing my mind?

Then came the burn, my neck tightening as if invisible hands were crushing my throat. My fingers clawed desperately at the air, but there was nothing to grasp.

"Shasha..." My voice was only a broken rasp. I looked down for her.

She was gone.

My stomach dropped. And then..

A figure appeared before me.

I gasped, my eyes widening in horror.

It was Shasha.

She stood in front of me, calm, unflinching. A gun in her hand.

"Sleep tight," she whispered, her voice colder than the room itself.

I thrashed against the choking force, but the grip only tightened, crushing me. My lungs burned, my vision blurred...

The gunshot rang out.

And everything went black.