Frankie:
The first thing I noticed was the cold—sharp and biting, sinking deep into my bones. I groaned, trying to shift, but my limbs felt heavy, weighted down by something sticky and thick. My eyes fluttered open, and my breath hitched as I took in my surroundings.
Black ooze coated everything.
The ground, the walls, and the ceiling—if you could call it that—were all slick with the viscous substance, glistening like oil under faint, flickering light. The air was damp and reeked of decay, each breath filling my lungs with the stench of rot. Shadows danced along the edges of my vision, moving unnaturally like they were alive.
I tried to sit up, but the ooze clung to me, resisting my movements. My heart pounded as I yanked my arms free, the sticky substance stretching and snapping like
