The blood was still on the floor.
The scent was sticky, and the air—heavier than ever.
Freya remained kneeling by the door, her tiny hand frozen, still clutching the little girl's... or what was left of her.
Her eyes stared blankly. Unblinking. As if she was the one who had died.
> Freya (whispers, trembling):
"I… I was holding her hand… I could've… I could've pulled her…"
Dunfrey walked toward her with steady steps. His eyes caught the blood—the severed flesh—the pain. But his focus was only on Freya.
He knelt down, gently placed his hands on her shoulders.
> Dunfrey (calmly, though clearly shaken):
"Freya… Freya, we need to go… just for a bit… away from here…"
She didn't respond. Still clutching that tiny hand, as if willing the girl back to life.
In one swift move, Dunfrey took her arm and pulled her gently toward a dark corner—away from the body's sight.
He sat beside her, breathing in sharply, watching her face tremble.
> Freya (gasping):
"She had long hair… like my sister… I didn't even ask her name…"
> Dunfrey:
"We can't stop everything… The only thing worth staying alive for… is ourselves, Freya."
She blinked, her wide eyes staring into the dark.
> Freya (in a shaken voice):
"This place… It's weird, right? Like a bad dream. There's a tunnel, and a rabbit… and people dying.
This is a dream, right, Dunfrey?"
Suddenly, she laughed—a broken, hollow laugh. Then burst into tears.
> Freya (with childlike confusion):
"The rabbit in my cartoon used to like carrots… not blood…"
Dunfrey looked at her, something inside him cracking.
He wanted to pull her out of that fragile world… but failed.
Failure… always followed Dunfrey.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out an old, worn tissue, and wiped her tears.
That was the only thing he could do.
> Dunfrey (soft but firm):
"Listen to me… You're strong. We have to become stronger."
Freya whispered—barely audible:
> Freya:
"I don't like this place, Dunfrey… I want to go home…"
He said nothing. Just leaned back against the cold wall. Something heavy sat on his chest.
He always pretended he could carry more…
But he was still just a child.
Suddenly—the iron door leading to the hall creaked open.
The Rabbit returned.
> The Rabbit (booming voice):
"First party's over! If you survived—you earned a little sleep. If you didn't—enjoy your early grave!"
A chilling chuckle echoed from him. One that bit like cold metal.
The children returned—drained… silent… broken.
Grik passed by Dunfrey and Freya, eyeing them before smirking:
> Grik:
"Oh, look… it's Dunfrey the soft-hearted.
Don't forget—crybabies don't last long around here.
Try to live, you miserable little rabbits."
He walked off, laughing.
His laughter cracked like a whip.
Dunfrey turned to look at him slowly… saying nothing.
But something in his eyes had changed.
Something new was born.
Was it hatred?
Was it fury?
Or maybe…
the birth of a monster?