Unit 1: Sofia's Swear
"Now my game starts," George said calmly.
He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing the room. "Now this place will be filled with your blood… and your screams."
Sofia lifted her head despite the chains. Her voice was weak, yet unbroken.
"The flow of my blood is something I can't control," she said. "But my screams—I can. I swear, you son of a bitch, you will never hear me scream."
A demonic smile spread across George's face.
He turned toward a box in the corner of the room and opened it. Inside lay tools of pain. He picked up a cutter and walked back to her slowly, enjoying every step.
George placed the cutter against Sofia's hand and carved a cross into her skin.
Blood spilled.
But Sofia didn't scream.
Her body trembled, her breath shook—she felt like she would explode—but still, no sound escaped her lips.
"Brave girl," George muttered.
He moved behind her and ripped her clothes apart. Cold air touched her torn skin. Then the cutter pressed against her back. Slowly, painfully, he carved a single word into her flesh.
WINGS.
Blood flowed down her back like water. George waited. He watched her face closely.
Still—no scream.
Tears filled Sofia's eyes, but she smiled through the pain.
"You can't even make a girl scream," she whispered. "And you think you can defeat the Wings?"
She spat her words like poison.
George only smiled wider. "You think you can make me angry?" he said softly. "Now you will feel real pain."
The sound of metal echoed.
Needles pierced Sofia's body again and again.
Pain like fire tore through her veins—unforgettable, unbearable. She fought it, held it back, but her blood slowly flooded the floor. Her vision blurred. It felt like hell had opened its gates and swallowed her whole.
"This room," George said, breathing deeply, "will become my paradise."
He dragged in a bag of coal and scattered it across the room. Then, with one final look at Sofia, he lit it and shut the door.
Smoke filled the air.
Her skin burned. Her lungs screamed for oxygen. Darkness crept into her mind, and Sofia lost consciousness.
Moments later—maybe minutes, maybe hours—George returned. He put out the fire and looked down at her.
"The game begins," he said.
Days passed.
Some days, George tortured her.
Some days, he never came.
Some days, he brought food and watched her eat in silence.
But Sofia never screamed.
One day, driven mad by her silence, George sliced off half of her ear.
Sofia looked at him—not with fear, not with mercy.
She smiled.
That smile broke something inside him.
"This is a waste of time," George muttered.
He dragged her back to her room.
Winter arrived.
But hope never did.
---
Unit 2: Hallucinations
Phase 1
Winter arrived in North America like a silent executioner.
The cold had only begun—temperatures falling between 5°C and −10°C—yet it already felt merciless. Roads disappeared beneath thick snow. Trees bent under its weight, exhausted, lifeless. Visibility shrank to barely 100 or 200 meters, and when the wind screamed with snow, it dropped to 20… sometimes even 10.
At night, it became worse.
No visibility.
No mercy.
The cold felt like a blade slicing through the skin.
The weak didn't survive winters.
And this was only the beginning.
Sofia woke up.
Her first thought was panic—but then confusion.
She wasn't in the torture room.
Weeks… no—months had passed. Four, maybe three. Her body felt different. She touched her ear.
Half of it was gone.
She looked down at herself. Her wounds were wrapped in gauze. Her body had healed—but her mind hadn't. She tried to stand. Her legs shook, but she walked.
She opened the door.
The hallway was empty.
Step by step, she moved downstairs. No guards. No chains. No screams. She reached the hall and sat on a chair near the hearth. The fire warmed the room, but not her soul.
She thought of everything she had lost.
Her family.
Her childhood.
Her body.
She touched her face slowly, as if confirming she was real.
Am I still in hell?
A shadow stretched across the wall.
"So… you're awake," George said from behind.
Sofia didn't reply.
"Did you notice your hair? Your eyebrows?" he asked again.
She touched her head.
Her hair had turned white.
Her eyebrows were gone.
"Don't worry," George smiled. "Soot suits you. White is beautiful—especially when red spreads over it."
She understood. He wasn't talking about colors.
He stepped closer. "Go to your room. Freshen up. Wear warm clothes. Eat dinner. Then sleep. For now… you rest."
Sofia nodded. "Okay."
But her mind was already moving.
She walked back to her room and entered the washroom.
And the planning began.
---
Phase 2
George sat alone, lost in thought.
Then—
A scream.
He looked around.
Nothing.
A shadow slipped behind him.
His breathing grew heavy.
"Help me… please… forgive me…"
The voice was familiar.
Too familiar.
Pain struck his head. His chest tightened. Faces appeared—people he had tortured, people he had killed. Their screams pierced him like arrows.
He collapsed.
Crying. Begging.
No one answered.
He crawled to his room, grabbed his pills, and swallowed them without water. He collapsed onto the floor.
Hours passed.
When he woke, the pain was worse.
His vision blurred.
He felt something touch his leg.
Slowly, he looked down.
A severed head stared back at him.
His father's head.
"AHH—!"
A child screamed.
George froze.
That scream… he knew it.
"John."
He ran.
He threw open the door to John's room.
Sofia arrived at the same time.
Both of them froze.
---
Phase 3
John was standing.
After five days of hell.
After eight months of destruction.
George's mind broke for a second.
A body like that shouldn't stand for a year.
John swayed.
Then fell.
George caught him instinctively.
For a moment—he smiled.
The game isn't over yet, he thought.
But something felt wrong.
Very wrong.
---
Phase 4
This was the moment Sofia had been waiting for.
Her heart nearly exploded with emotion—but her mind stayed cold.
She knew the truth.
She couldn't escape alone.
She was only nine.
She wasn't strong enough to carry John.
She couldn't run with him unconscious.
And worse—everything that happened to John was because of her.
If John could walk…
If he could follow her plan…
Then escape was possible.
And Sofia already had a plan.
---
Unit 3: The Plan
First: Sofia waits for the moments when George leaves the house. Those hours are gold. She explores everything—inside and outside—except the basement.
Second: She follows George secretly when possible. She learns the exits. The paths. The way out.
Third: Two outcomes remain.
If George leaves the house—they escape immediately.
If he doesn't—they escape at night.
Night is dangerous.
Zero visibility.
Deadly cold.
A slow, freezing torture.
But staying is worse.
Sofia begins the plan.
---
Chapter 8: Can She?
Coming next Tuesday.