It was morning—an eerily peaceful one at that. Ling's unconscious body lay at the corner of a hidden alley.
Her body stirred lightly as she began to awaken. The rising sun begun to shed its brilliance on her tender skin, illuminating her visage, which in turn hastened her awakening.
Her brows furrowed as she opened her eyes, albeit slightly, revealing a blurry sight. She sat up, her mind quickly churning in confusion.
Where am I?
Where is my son?
She questioned internally as she stumbled trying to get on her feet.
Then her vision cleared—everything quickly snapping into high definition.
Suddenly, a coppery scent of blood wafted into her nostrils, drawing her attention to what lay in front of her.
Her face slowly warped in horror as she froze paralyzed from fear, as an influx of memories from the previous night assailing her mind.
A deformed, bloodied figure was hung on the wall before her—his limbs twisted in unnatural directions.
