[b]5[/b]
The clock’s tick is a slow blade,
cutting through the silence,
fingers cold on metal chains—
it’s only minutes now,
my breath tearing through my chest.
[b]4[/b]
I can hear them—footsteps,
too close, too far,
scraping keys, rattling,
the air, thick—
I choke on it, wait.
[b]3[/b]
The light through the bars feels wrong,
like it’s burning me—
I can’t escape,
the walls closing in.
[b]2[/b]
The door cracks open,
a figure, a...
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