She woke up with a scream dying on her lips as the remembered where she was.
The faint dripping in the background wasn't the blood from her fiancé's slit throat hitting their bathroom tiles, it was only water falling from a leaking pipe. The sharp, cold ache in her bones wasn't from knives sticking out like a mockery of angel's wings, it was only the water seeping through her torn jacket and leeching what little warmth she had.
The snarling chanting in the distance remained the same.
On one hand it meant the bastards who'd slaughtered her family hadn't found her yet.
On the other hand, if they'd picked up the chanting again then they likely reckoned they had her cornered.
Rolling to her sore feet, she hobbled towards the pallets she'd stacked against her escape route, sliding them out of the way as quietly as possible, creeping into the tunnel and sliding the pallets back behind her. With every pained groan she supressed, every half-shuffled step that felt a little too loud, she prayed they were too far away to hear her.
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