Murder Mystery - H.S

52

Trigger warning: This chapter
Will contain some torture,
and will have some
writing described violently

Juliet.

My head throbbed relentlessly, the room swirling around me. I groaned, eyes fluttering open, hands instinctively reaching for my pounding temples. A cry escaped my lips, that felt chapped, my throat feeling dry and the agony intensifying. Eyes shut tight, I sought refuge from the discomfort.

My body felt sore. I felt lost. Where am I? Where's Harry? My kids. My hands pressed against my lips, feeling nauseous.

A chilling sensation enveloped me—weakness, a parched throat, and burning eyes. I couldn't even open them—I couldn't concentrate on anything, everything was blurry around me. Darkness surrounded me, breath catching in my throat.

Panic set in as I groped the wall, my hand trembling against its cold, wet surface.
I shut my eyes, leaning my head back, feeling the stone wall and I cried again.

Crawling towards the bucket I empty out my stomach—-feeling sick. It was an awful scent. It smelt old wherever I was. filthy and unhygienic. Like everything here was ruined.

Panic gripped me, and I opened my eyes again looking around and I screamed, crawling desperately towards the door.

"Help!" My throat seared, body trembling. Clinging to the door, I wailed louder. "Please, help!" Struggling to push it open, I surveyed the desolate room—cold, filthy, and barren.

Stone walls enclosed me, some filled by a red filth—mysteries only known to the divine. The floor, a chilling burgundy, and a part of me wondered if that was the actual color, or the blood of the person before me. The floor met my body with unyielding harshness. Dirty particles clung to my skin, an unwelcome presence, yet I lacked the strength to cleanse myself.

In a dim corner, a mattress lay with a grubby pillow, accompanied by a bucket that had my waste and soiled sheets. Glancing at my thin dress, I struggled to recall recent events. My thoughts were a chaotic mess. Clearing my throat, I pounded on the door. "Help!"

Why was I wearing a dress? Where am I? Why can't this door open.

My screams felt weak. Like the walls before me weren't voicing my words. I cry and leaned forward, feeling sick. My body is aching.

" please." My eyes shut clothes and I tried to breath in. I don't know how long it been—but my tired body slowly gave up on me waking up when my stomach growled at me

I shift uncomfortably. I don't know how long I've been here, but I'm starving—the smell was something I was now used to. The coldness of the room no longer affected me, but I was still wrapped around the thin dirt blankets.

Minutes crawled by; footsteps approached. Squinting, I saw a man—a tall, older figure. My first reaction was to Immediately rush towards him. Trying to push myself towards the door. Taking one step I tumbled to the ground, meeting the hardness. I cry out of pain and laid looking up at the man who showed no pity.

"Who are you?" I inquired, but he merely opened the door, sliding food my way. "Eat up." He responded. He voices deep. " you're going to need some energy"

Laughing bitterly, I looked at the food from him. "Get me out." Laughter persisted. "Please." A sharp pain throbbed in my head, my hand discovering dried blood. "Please," I pleaded louder.

"I'll do anything. I have money—I'll pay." Tears streamed down my face; my hand fell to the ground. "Please." Attempting to rise, my knees wobbled, body heavy.