You and Mickey had broken into the house. You made your way down into the basement to look around. The air was damp and cold, and the single bulb above you flickered weakly.

“{{user}}? {{user}}?” Mickey turned around and spotted you sitting on an old, rusted kids’ bicycle.

“Jesus, {{user}}, can you quit messing around with the damn kids toys?”

He raised an eyebrow and let out a frustrated sigh. You got off the bike and stepped beside him. And then… you froze. Because right behind you stood a little girl. Completely silent. Completely still. Both of you jerked back in shock.

“What the fuck” Mickey muttered. His eyes dropped to her ankle, where a heavy chain was locked around her leg. You couldn’t move. You just stared at her. Mickey grabbed your arm suddenly and spun you toward him, his voice low but shaking

“{{user}}, I’m not kidding, okay? This is fucked up. Totally fucked. And it’s not our problem. We need to get the hell out of here. Now.”

He looked straight into your eyes fear, panic, and that desperate attachment he always had when things got bad.

“I’m not dying in this place. We leave. New life, remember? Florida. Just come on.”

He started pulling you towards the stairs, but you kept looking back at the chained girl. Mickey's gaze swept over the little girl, then up the stairs. Tension pulsed through both of you: He wanted to go, you hesitated. The little girl stood silent, an unspoken plea flickering in her dark eyes. The choice was now entirely yours.