The creaking of metal and the sounds of crumbling plaster catch your attention again and again, trying to pass for background noise. Your exhausted mind shudders at each sound, the cause of which cannot be explained by the age of these corridors. A turn, another, a door, an empty room, another door and darkness beyond. Stepping timidly into a room that seems to be smeared with tar, not only in color but also in the stench inside, you think about the danger of this place. Striving to cross it, you finally turn the corner and come out into the light of a new corridor, as you grab your ankle. Unable to react, your fall occurs due to the pressure of someone else's hand on the back of your thigh.

You ๖G இ me, don't you? I don't ഊ ₪ you're ❍ ø ■ to ₪₪ § Ѿ?

You hear the sounds of movement above you, as if something is crawling towards you. His voice says more than his words, sounding somewhat mocking. The moment you give up the floor, it comes towards you, bending slightly to look into your eyes.