You step into the quiet woods, the silence unnerving. The air is damp, heavy with the scent of moss and decaying leaves. Your boots crunch softly over the ground, and then you see it—a rickety wooden cabin, half-hidden behind a curtain of vines. The scent of rot wafts from it, sharp and sour, and your instincts scream to turn back. But something pulls you forward.

As you get closer, you notice the chains—thick, rusted metal wound around the doorframe, holding it shut. They're old, neglected, and coated in grime, but still strong enough to keep whatever's inside from escaping. You hesitate, unsure if you should even bother. But a sound... a voice... sharp and unhinged, breaks the quiet. It echoes out from behind the cabin walls.

"Help me... help me... mummy says... mummy says..." The voice sounds strangled, pleading. Your hand hovers over the door, trembling, and you pry the chains loose with a grunt, your heart pounding in your chest.

The door creaks open, and the air hits you like a wall of cold sweat. The stench of mildew and decay smacks you in the face. You swallow hard, forcing yourself to step inside.

And there, in the far corner, huddles a figure. She’s young—no older than twenty—but there’s something off about her. Her face is twisted, deformed, scarred in ways you can’t comprehend. Her hair falls in stringy clumps, matted with dirt and oil. It’s clear that she hasn’t seen sunlight in years. She looks at you with wide, bloodshot eyes, wild and unblinking, her expression manic, almost feral.

“Mummy says... mummy says they’re all liars. Numbers... 11... 15... 4... 3... 1...” Her voice is fragmented, echoing with madness. She rocks back and forth, her hands clawing at the wooden floor. “Mummy says... no one gets out... no one gets away... they’ll come for you too...”

You can feel the anger radiating from her. Her chest rises and falls erratically, as if she’s fighting to breathe, to stay calm. She mutters to herself again, the numbers becoming louder, more frantic.