Julie ran as fast as her battered body allowed. Her breath came in short, wheezing bursts, and each step sent shockwaves of pain through her limbs. But she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. Her dry, cracked lips stuck together, her throat burned like fire, and her legs trembled beneath her—but she forced herself forward with sheer willpower.
The terrain beneath her bare feet was unforgiving. Sharp stones dug into her soles, thorny weeds lashed her ankles, and the late afternoon sun cast long, looming shadows across the trees around her. Yet nothing slowed her—not the pain, not the blood drying on her back, not the sharp stings of her body breaking down.
She was beyond exhaustion. Her movements were jerky, as though her body moved on borrowed time and borrowed strength. Bruises blackened her arms and thighs. Her back—lashed open by David's whip—throbbed with raw, swollen wounds, dark with infection and untouched by care. Her entire body screamed at her to stop.
But her mind repeated one thing, over and over again.
Keep going. Don't stop. Keep going.
Hours blurred into a haze. She didn't know how long she ran before she stumbled upon a narrow stream, glittering under the fading daylight. The sight of water filled her with a sudden, desperate hope.
Without thinking, Julie dropped to her knees at the stream's edge. Her hands cupped the cool liquid and she drank greedily, gulping mouthful after mouthful until her thirst was finally quenched. The water was clean, icy against her dry throat. She didn't care if it was safe. She didn't care if she drowned in it. At least it wasn't blood or pain.
When she finally rose, her body swayed. Her head turned slowly, eyes scanning the trees. She had no idea where she was. Every direction looked the same. But something inside her urged her to follow the stream. Water leads somewhere, she thought hazily. Maybe to a road, maybe to a village... maybe to someone.
Dragging her feet, she walked downstream, each step more painful than the last. Her muscles burned, her back pulsed with feverish heat, and yet she trudged forward, her eyes glassy and distant. Her clothes were stiff with dried blood, clinging to her skin like shackles.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world in shades of deep amber and violet. Darkness crept over her vision. Her body slowed, limbs heavy as stone. Her vision blurred. But then, ahead—movement.
A shadow.
Her heart stuttered.
Someone was there.
She blinked hard, trying to focus. A figure stood just up ahead, silhouetted by the last traces of sunlight. Her breath caught in her throat. Was it real? Was it help?
Her pace quickened, desperation returning to her veins. Maybe… maybe she'd found someone who could save her. Maybe this nightmare was ending. Her steps grew faster, her hope rising like a fevered dream.
But as she got closer, the figure turned.
She froze.
The man's build… his posture… even the way his head tilted… it was familiar.
No.
Her blood ran cold.
It can't be…
He turned fully, his face now visible—and Julie's heart stopped.
It was him.
David.
She stumbled back in horror, eyes wide. Her body screamed at her to run—but it didn't obey. Her legs gave way, and the world tilted around her like a ship in a storm. Her vision blackened, and the last thing she saw was his face.
Then everything went dark.
Julie's eyes flew open.
Her breathing was rapid, shallow, her body slick with cold sweat. She was lying on something hard—wood, she realized—and the air smelled thick and decayed. Her surroundings spun in a nauseating blur.
She tried to lift her head, but a bolt of pain shot through her back and a strangled cry escaped her lips. She sank back down, panting, eyes darting wildly around the dimly lit space.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Her face twisted in confusion, then horror. The smell in the air—rot, blood, and something fouler. Something dead.
She shifted slightly, trying to lie on her stomach, wincing at the intense agony radiating from her back. But then—she felt movement. On her skin.
Panic surged through her.
She pushed herself up with her hands, her breath hitching in her throat. Slowly, painfully, she craned her neck to look behind her.
What she saw made her blood freeze.
Tiny, writhing white maggots moved along the open wounds on her back. Clusters of them, crawling inside gashes, feeding.
Her scream tore through the cabin like a wild animal's cry.
"No—no no no—no!" she wailed, scrambling away from the wall, her hands clawing at her arms as if trying to rid herself of the sensation.
Her mind couldn't grasp the horror.
She was rotting.
Alive.
Her body was decomposing. The lash wounds on her back had gone necrotic. The heat. The filth. The time left untreated. Her skin had split, blackened, and now, the maggots—crawling, feeding, living in her flesh.
Her hands trembled as she tried to reach the spot. Her fingers brushed the edge of one wound, and she felt it—soft, squishy movement. Her stomach lurched. She leaned over and vomited, gagging violently as bile splattered the dusty floor.
Tears poured from her eyes.
"I'm dying," she whispered hoarsely. "I'm dying… alive…"
She collapsed onto her side, sobbing uncontrollably. Her entire body trembled, not just from the pain, but from terror. There were no words left in her mind—just overwhelming panic and despair.
Her brain reeled. Her vision blurred. She clawed at her scalp, tugged at her hair, anything to feel something other than this monstrous crawling inside her. Her breath quickened into short, gasping hiccups.
And then, slowly—she realized something else.
She was back in the cabin.
The same cabin.
She hadn't escaped. It had all been a dream. Or maybe a delusion. Her collapse in the forest, the stream, David's reappearance—it had all happened, but somehow, she had ended up right back here. Trapped. Alone. Rotting.
Her screams returned—louder now, uncontrollable.
She covered her face with her bloodied hands, howling into the darkness. The sound was raw, primal, torn from the deepest parts of her soul. It carried her anguish, her pain, her breaking mind.
She had cracked.
Her sanity shattered under the weight of torture, confusion, and the inescapable realization that she was being destroyed, piece by piece.
Julie thrashed in place, her mind spiraling in madness, her voice echoing off the rotting wood. Her scream went on and on until her throat felt raw, until her voice broke into strangled gasps. She fell silent only when her body could no longer bear it.
She curled into herself, weeping silently, her mind a storm of chaos and trauma. She lay there, shivering in pain, madness, and utter hopelessness.
Somewhere outside, the world continued turning. Somewhere, people laughed, lived, loved.
But in that decaying cabin, surrounded by silence, rot, and the whispering sounds of vermin—
Julie was alone.
And she no longer knew if she would survive.