Day #9 – by Amber Averay (a continuation from Jeanelle’s Day #8):
There was a frantic chittering, piping squeaks, and the scrabbling that only comes with rats’ claws scratching upon wood. I tried to open my eyes, but they refused to obey my wordless command.
At my side my fingers spasmed, and as I became aware of that pain abruptly roared through my prone form. Agony raged, my legs drumming on the floor, head twitching, feet kicking – I think I got lucky and caught a rat because I heard an outraged squeal and the hasty scritching of those horrid claws scurrying away.
It began to occur to me that maybe, just maybe, I should have run when I had the chance. I should have heeded that poor man’s warning and fled – but my damned curiosity always won out over common sense.
Open, I mentally ordered my eyes, but they remained sealed shut. Dammit, open. Open, please! At last panic started to overwhelm me, and I tried to sit up but all I managed was a wobbly rocking that must have looked awkward and pathetic.
Wait – was I being watched? I was flat on my back, on uneven, splintery wooden flooring, sharing space with rats. I wasn’t bound, but could not move – nor, I realised belatedly, could I hear anything.
Where was I?
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