(TW: Death)

The air smelt of dead men.

The floorboards whined and yawned with the steps— whom she knew— of the Master. Purposeful and long, the rhythm was roaring louder come every stride.

Grace swallowed hard and fastened the cupboard with a click. She sagged and descended the wall, a hand flying upon her quivering lips to snuff the pathetic whimpers escaping her.

The beat of her heart was violently pounding and biting upon the cage of her ribs, a voice within the depths of her mind beckoning the folly lass to _run_.

A bleak shiver ascended the pillar of Grace’s spine. Flee she could not, for the Master was famished. There was no escape route, not that she could recall.

Grace withered and bowed her head into her knees. Mother would certainly beat her blue if she’d made it out alive. She had forewarned Grace not to accept Master Erus’ invitation. Would she—

“Grace.” A comely, hoarse voice crooned, a lilt of murder dangling upon the syllable. “Oh, beloved Grace… Where art thou hiding.”

The maiden sank deeper into the wretched apex and embosomed both legs with a trembling effort. She squeezed her eyes shut, chanting the Our Father within her mind.

_The Lord shalt liberate me, the Lord shalt liberate me, the Lord shalt liberate—_

The door whined open.

(Tbc)