FRIDA: CHAPTER 90

Her body hung limp over his shoulder as he took slow gentle strides through the dark hallway of the grand house.

Paintings adorned the walls, and from her blurry vision, their eyes followed her.

She took deep, suffocating breaths as tears streamed down her face.

He entered a dark room and loosened the chains wrapped around a hole in the floor. It revealed a basement, pitch dark, with only a dim candle showing the way.

He took gentle, calculated strides down the stairs, his torchlight the only light.

Her consciousness wavered in and out.

Then suddenly, the place was dimly lit, and she saw something horrible.

Their names were etched into the chains, a cruel mark of ownership. Soon, hers would be too.

They were all her age or younger, bound in chains, emaciated, marasmic, bruised.