~Marie's Pov~
I can't feel my hands anymore.
They've been tied above my head for so long, the circulation cut off, numbness crawling up my arms like vines. My feet barely touch the floor, and when they do, it's only enough to remind me I'm still here. Still alive. Barely.
Water drips from my hair, my clothes are soaked through, and blood mixes with the cold on my skin. Every inch of me aches—burns—but I refuse to make a sound. That's the only power I have left right now.
"Not talking, huh?" Stacey's voice slices through the silence like glass.
I lift my head slowly. She's standing there, lit by a flickering bulb, her arms crossed, boots clicking as she walks around me again and again and again like a vulture waiting for me to die.
She picks up the knife from the metal tray like it's a toy. Her expression is calm. Too calm. That's the part that scares me.
