Shattered Silence
I rushed to my door, swiped the key card, and pushed it open.
And then the air left my lungs.
The room wasn’t mine anymore—it was a scene out of a nightmare. My mind couldn’t process what I was seeing. A scream tore from my throat, raw and primal, but I couldn’t stop it.
A hand dangled grotesquely from the ceiling fan, blood dripping steadily onto the carpet below. The walls were smeared with crimson streaks, a horrifying mural. On the table, a human heart sat on a plate like some grotesque offering, illuminated by the dim light. Ashes were scattered across the floor in intricate, haunting designs.
Bab Populer