Amelia's head pounded. Her shoulders and her back ached. She was cold, and for some reason, sort of damp.
Rolling onto her side, Amelia realized she was laying on concrete. It was dark, wherever she was, and as she cracked her eyes open to study her surroundings, she did her best to place where she was. There were iron bars keeping her contained in a pit.
It smelled dank. She couldn't figure out where water was dripping from, but there was moss growing on parts of the wall, and the ground was damp enough to make her clothes feel sticky. There was a door down here in the pit so that someone wouldn't have to try to enter from above, but it was a steel door and she couldn't make it budge.
Her hands were bound behind her back, tied in some kind of rough twine. It made her wrists itch.