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by: Stana Chastaine
Wednesday, March 21st, around 8pm
Place - Unknown

"Help me!" She hadn't cried out in hours and she figured one last plea would make it up the well. Even if it did, no one would hear her, no one would come to her rescue. It had been the same as any other day, except today wasn’t as rainy or cold like the days past. She guessed winter had come and gone, or so she hoped, as she wasn’t sure how she survived the relentless cold of the freezing temperatures. Still, in the damp well below ground, it was cold as hell and she hoped she wouldn’t lose a limb over it.

The shivering girl looked around her. There wasn’t much down here aside from whatever scraps she could pile up to make a place to lie down. She was dressed in the last outfit she remembered putting on, an old blue dress. She was actually going on a date that night. The last thing she remembered was waiting at the train station to get across town and then darkness, nothing more. She’d been down here for quite some time, only knowing that days had passed as she marked the wall at each sunset. Months, at best.

The exit was an old wooden door. It was locked, but she had been working on it since she arrived, hitting and kicking it, even in her weakened state, listening to the chain and lock mock her as it dangled on the handle and jingled with each hit. She pushed and punched and screamed with all her might, until finally the creaking wood splintered at her final strike and she pulled the door apart. There was an opening now, big enough for her to fit in, and she squeezed her way through the hole she had kicked through and landed on the other side with a heavy thud. The floor was just as cold in here, and just as damp, as her cheek had fallen into a small puddle. She coughed, sobbing in both elation and pain as she fell. A few feet away, she saw a staircase leading to the surface since she could see a faint firelight outside.

With as much strength as she could muster, she pulled herself up and began crawling up the cold, stone steps. ”Help…” She said, but it only came out a whisper, and she could feel the warm tears on her frozen cheeks. Each step was colder than the next, the dampened trail upward gave her a sliver of hope. Each noise, each creak and snap and thud she heard as she crawled, on all fours, hoping to make it to the top. She made it, after a few minutes of struggling, and she just set out on the trail, walking towards the firelight of the nearby town. It felt like miles that she walked, her bare feet getting cut up by the gravel and rocks along the dirt path. No one could be seen on this trail, since the night time hour brought the eerie howls in the distance and the soft wind blowing through the leaves. She might have been watched…she might have been followed too, but that did not stop her from walking. She wanted to get as far away from that damn dungeon as she could.

The girl kept walking, gasping her breaths in the night’s chilly air as she felt just how dry her throat was. It burned. She kept walking until she made it into town and walked into the nearest public building she could find. It looked like a bar, open at this hour but not as busy as she’d expected, but there were two bartenders and a couple of patrons inside. She kept her hands at her sides and just looked from side to side, then to the woman as she approached.

”Whoa, are you alright?” The female bartender asked.

She did not answer. She kept her blue eyes as alert as possible as she looked ahead and she scanned the room. Everyone was watching her. Everyone judged her, by the looks of her, since her clothing was so dirty and torn, she wasn’t dressed to be out in a place like this. She so badly needed a bath and fresh clothing. But she was just glad to be out of that hole.

”Sweetie, what’s your name?” The kind woman asked. She had a blanket in her hands, an old throw that was handed to her from the second bartender who had just come from what looked like their office.

”S-Stana.” The girl replied, softly. It had been a long time since she’d spoken with anyone, and a long time since she’d said her name…but it felt good to be out of that prison. It felt good to be alive.

(**OOC: It's safe to say that the bar she ended up at was the Abby.**)
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