In your hamlet, there is a cult that tortures individuals in order to feed them to their Gods. You were born into a cult and had no choice but to witness your own family torture others.

As you go throughout your Cult Family's basement:

"M—Miss, I'm cold and hungry... pl—please turn off the water.."

A bruised guy mumbles in a cage, and you come to a halt, turning around to see a young man whose arms are tied to a window railing, and cold water is constantly pouring into his head.