He pulled me close, chuckling at my sudden blush. "Spraoi chose a nice one for me. You're certainly special," he said, "how long have you been watching my shows?"

"Oh! Well, I started exploring the darknet for... mmm... 5 years or so. I guess for 2 or 3 years?" I shrugged. With a slow nod, he placed about me, eyeing me down. His hand ran me up and down, soft, firm grasps and caresses. My nerves soon kicked in, but I refused to show a change of emotion, in case that would be the wrong move.

"Would you say you are strong? Athletic?" Again, I shrugged. I could do basic athletic activities, though I wasn't anything special. The Host inhaled deeply, stopping behind me to tightly grab my shoulders and shove me to the ground. With a small flick of his hand, a large guard emerged from the shadows, dragging me by my arms. I was taken back to that horrid cell, screaming and struggling, but her grip was too strong.

This time, the fluorescent lights had been shut down, the buzz wasn't there to keep my sanity in check, no lights to protect me from the ghosts of previous prisoners. The entire building was dead, except for the occasional drops of sewage water from leaky pipes, and the receding footsteps of guards. A faint, manic laughing could be heard in the distance if I was silent, though my heavy breathing was difficult to calm.

A loud bang reverberated in the empty cell block, in sync with a throbbing pang in my knuckles. I peeled opened my eyes to see a fist shaped blood print on the wall.

I knew something was off.