Page 84 of Wicked Nightmare

Fuck, why did this place feel so goddamn familiar?

Cam interrupted my thoughts. "Basement?"

I nodded, my throat suddenly dry as I pulled a knife from it’s sheath. "Yeah. That's where the real fun always happens."

We moved down the hallway, more flashes played across my field of vision. Children's laughter echoing off peeling walls. The acrid smell of bleach. A nun's stern face looming over me. I stumbled, my heart kicking hard. Shaking my head, I forced myself to calm. I'd definitely been here before, but when? How?

Cam steadied me, concern on his face. "You okay, baby?"

I forced a smile. "Mhmm. Let's keep moving."

We found the spiral staircase leading to the basement. With each step down, my sense of dread grew. There were so many things that could be waiting for us down there. Seeing more torture rooms, or jars with body parts might send me into a tailspin, but this was what I signed up for when I said yes, so I had to grow a pair and deal.

At the bottom, a heavy wooden door stood slightly ajar. I pushed it open, the hinges shrieking in protest. The smell hit me first. Blood and fear and pain.

"Holy shit," I whispered, taking in the scene before us.

The room was a nightmare come to life. Rusty chains hung from the ceiling. Stained surgical tools were scattered across a filthy metal table. And there, in the corner, a woman was tied to a chair, her head lolling to one side.

For a moment, I froze. The white of her gown, the positioning of the chair in the room, the way she was tied. I knew this. I knew what they were going to do to her.

"Lakey," Cam's voice cut through my panic. "What do you want to do?"

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "We untie her. Now."

As I moved towards the woman, the thoughts kept bombarding me. She must be important to be here. Especially since it looks like this place was practically abandoned. Why do I feel like I am looking at a twisted reflection of myself?

Cam cut the ties to her hands, effortlessly lifting the unconscious woman, and cradling her against his broad chest. His face was a mask of calm efficiency, but I knew him well enough to see the tension in his jaw.

"I'll get her to safety," he said. "You keep searching. Be careful, baby."

I nodded, swallowing hard. "Always am, aren't I?"

He flashed me that crooked grin, then disappeared up the stairs with his burden.

My skin crawled with memories I couldn't quite grasp, wisps of smoke slipping through my fingers.

"Fucking nightmare of a place. Okay, let's get this show on the road," I said to the empty room, gripping my knife tighter.

I moved deeper into the basement, my footsteps echoing in the silence. Each door I passed sent a chill through me. What horrors lay behind them? What answers? I never opened them to find out, opting to look in through the window in the top half of the door. These were observation windows, and each one held a different type of room. One was empty, with a bloodied pillow in the corner. One had blocks, kid's toys. It was painted warmly, almost welcoming.

The next made my stomach turn. Old, dried blood splattered across the walls, a shattered plate, smears that looked like a body had been dragged around.

Fucking hell.

As I turned a corner, something tugged at me. Not physically, but a feeling. A pull. Like a string tied around my heart, leading me forward.

"What the fuck is going on?" I whispered, my voice trembling slightly.

But I kept moving, driven by a need I couldn't explain. The corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, a labyrinth of shadows and secrets.

We needed to find out who the fuck was doing this. To put an end to all of it, because as much as my heart sang when I drove my knife through someone, this was too much. Too far. It seemed no one else gave a fuck, so it all rested on us. We needed answers.

I paused, leaning against a wall, trying to catch my breath. All of it was so much to carry, the missing memories, the tortured woman, the inexplicable pull.

But then I thought of Cam. Of his strength, his unwavering loyalty, and I straightened up, gripping my knife tighter. He'd be down here kicking down doors and figuring it out. I needed to put my big girl panties on and just fucking figure my shit out.

Around the next corner, my heart stopped. A room. The memory slammed into me, causing me to take a step back. No, no, no. I don't want to know. I don't want to remember. Please, make it stop. God, please. Make it stop.