It was cold and dark. A foul moldy odor pervaded the air, along with it a metallic taste. Amidst the darkness lay a young woman on the floor, half-conscious and confused.

Her arm was hurting, there was a splitting pain in the back of her head. She woke up not too long ago but only now became fully aware of her surroundings.

She couldn't remember much, not where she was nor how she had gotten here. Even her own name she was having trouble recalling.

Wait, calm down. Think.

The girl turned to her left arm, a painful feeling assaulted it. Her hand was cuffed to a pipe, leaving her in an awkward position. She was in a daze for a moment, not sure of what was going on.

Putting strength in her arm she pulled her hand. Pulled, and pulled, with all her might, making a lot of rattling noise in the process, foolishly hoping it could maybe break the pipe, to no avail.

She turned to the room, hoping to find any sort of clue or anything else that could help. It was dark but she could still barely examine it.

It looked to be some sort of deposit, full of barrels and half-opened boxes scattered. Everything was old and dusty, she could feel the dirt clinging to her as she shifted around on the floor.

The pipe she was attached to led to what appeared to be a furnace, old and poorly maintained, unfortunately not poorly enough for her to be able to break it with her strength, nor her abilities.

A bit away from her, on the opposite side of the room, she could make out a set of stairs leading to an upper floor. In all likelihood, she was in some house's basement.

Inspecting the cuff attached to her pulse she noticed it to be slightly rusty, and clearly not a proper handcuff. Seemed more like some sort of crude anti-theft device.

"Nngh...!"

It felt slightly loose in her pulse, maybe she could slip her hand out if she kept forcing it...?

Her vision got blurry for a moment. With her free right hand, she wiped the sweat trailing down her forehead.

Sweat? No, it was red. And smelled like iron.

*THUMP*

Every strand of hair in her body stood up, hearing what sounded like a door slam from upstairs. It just occurred to the girl she might not have been alone.

*tap* *tap* *tap*

Footsteps, more than one person, but not many.

*creeeeak*

A door opened at the top of the stairs, weak light seeping through the crack. The girl immediately laid on the floor with her back turned towards the incoming guest.

They were here for her, no doubt about it. Their intentions? She'd rather not find out. There's no guarantee the person wouldn't just come and kick her awake, maybe worse, but her heart wasn't ready to deal face-to-face with her likely captors.

*tap* *tap* *tap*

They were going down the stairs behind her at this very moment. She didn't dare turn or move a muscle.

*tap* *tap* *-*

The loud footsteps became hushed, the person had finished descending the creaky wooden stairs and was now traversing through the concrete floor of the basement. Towards her. All she could hear now was the subtle rustling of clothes.

Coming closer and closer.

The sounds stopped just a few steps behind the frightened girl's back. Heavy breathing and a strong heartbeat could be heard. Both her own most likely.

With sharpened ears, she picked up rustling sounds once again, and then...

*tap* *tap* *tap* .... *slam*

The person went back up the stairs and closed the door. A sigh slipped out of the girl's mouth, the kidnapper must've been just checking her out. Of course, her predicament was still far from over.

Noises could still be heard from the ceiling. Foots tapping, muffled voices, objects moving, nothing clear but at least she could hear if somebody tried coming down again.

She was able to make out some of their words, however.

'Escape', and 'Gun'.

Blood drained from her face. Just what did she do to deserve this?

She turned towards her cuff again, holding it with her free right hand while pulling the other, being careful to not make any noise this time. She could feel her hand almost slipping out, but never enough.

Horrific thoughts of breaking her own thumb or knuckles came to mind, as a broken hand was definitely better than whatever the people upstairs had in mind for her. Unfortunately, she had no idea how to even do it, much less the mental fortitude to follow through with it, not to mention do it all silently so as to not alert her captors.

So she pulled.

Maybe there was no reason to be scared, maybe they didn't want to hurt her and had other plans in mind, maybe they'll set her free after getting some money, maybe help would come at any time now. Such thoughts crossed her head, trying to cope with the situation.

But the dark thoughts always won out in the end. So she kept pulling.

Sweat mixed with blood was dropping on the floor. It hurt, her hand was getting red but she could still feel some progress, with every twist and pull she shaved off a few more micrometers, along with some of her skin, but that didn't matter at the moment.

Until... the cuff came right off.

And her arm slammed on the pipe with the residual force of the pull.

"....!"

She held her breath and perked her ears. The noise wasn't loud but it could've still been heard.

Nothing.

She heard stories of highly trained individuals capable of feeling other's presence and blood lust, unfortunately she wasn't one of them.

Silence. In fact, too much silence.

She waited a little more and still no signs of anyone going downstairs. The girl wanted to let out a breath in relief but couldn't. Too early for that.

Still, something had to be done.

First, she looks around for anything that could be used as a weapon, quietly. There were lots of old farming equipment laying around so there's bound to be something useful.

She really wanted a pitchfork or a sickle, however, there were only broken ones so she had to settle for an old beaten-up shovel. It wasn't that much of a weapon, much less if put against a firearm, but a well-placed swing could still knock someone out.

And it was all she had anyway.

Carrying the one-meter long shovel with her she went up the stairs, slowly, making sure none of her steps could be heard. There were still some creaks caused by the old wood, but they weren't all that loud, at least she hoped they weren't.

She was already close enough to immediately strike back if someone barged through the door.

Not that she wanted to, she wasn't exactly a strong woman. If she could get out of here without seeing anyone, that would be for the best.

Once at the top of the stairs, she carefully put her ear against the door, trying to listen to anything her captors might be saying or doing.

Only the same eerie silence from earlier came through.

Did they hear her after all? Did they decide to set up an ambush right outside instead of coming down? Would they shoot her with a gun as soon as she opened the door? There's no way she would know. Unfortunately staying here was an option she couldn't afford, even if the cowardly part of her brain kept whispering otherwise.

Thus, carefully, she opened the door.