Scarlett Yates raised her head, still a bit groggy, and looked around.
This time, her luck wasn't as good.
The last place she was taken to, at least, was a clean little building, and they didn't tie her hands and feet.
After surveying the tattered room, she concluded she was probably brought to some abandoned dangerous building.
The air was suffused with the choking smell of dust.
An ordinary incandescent bulb dangled above her, casting dim, yellowish light, with deathly silence and a dilapidated small house that effectively set a horror movie-like atmosphere.
Scarlett Yates was tied up tightly on a wooden chair.
She felt like a lamb awaiting slaughter, but the butcher was nowhere to be found, leaving her alone here.
Creak.
The wooden door swayed twice, then opened.
Scarlett slowly lifted her head, and when that hateful face met her eyes again, her gaze grew cold, and a mocking smile played on her lips: "Uncle Thompson, how do you plan to deal with me this time?"
