Revolution [part 1]

This chapter is only for readers 18+ and contains disturbing scenes. Please read it at your own risk.

**IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SHADOW**

The darkness continued to envelop me as I ventured deeper into the structure.

Each step was an echo in the suffocating silence, each breath a reminder of my precariousness.

I knew I couldn't continue wandering aimlessly.

The darkness was a sly enemy, but I knew the real threat was the men who controlled it.

I knew the structure of their plans: they were meticulous, foresighted.

Every corner could hide a trap, every shadow an enemy.

I paused for a moment to get my bearings, feeling the pounding of my heart echoing in my ears. The adrenaline fueled me, keeping my vigilance high.

Hidden among the shadows, I crouched to check my equipment.

Few resources, but enough to start with.

I still had a knife and some makeshift tools, simple but effective if used skillfully.

I needed to find a strategic point, a safe place from where to plan my next move.

I moved cautiously, every sense alert. The perimeter around the structure wasn't far, I knew they would start patrolling soon.

I had to be quick and precise.

I needed a plan, a strategy that would allow me to overturn the increasingly unfavorable odds.

Every detail counted, every choice had to be calculated precisely.

I stopped at every corner, listening carefully, trying to catch any sign of danger.

My senses were sharp, honed by the need to survive.

The walls seemed to close in around me, as if they wanted to stifle my will for freedom.

I knew time wasn't on my side.

My captors would soon reorganize, and their resources were immense.

I had to move quickly, taking advantage of every moment of confusion before they could regain control of the situation.

I slipped into a narrow passage, the walls cold and damp to the touch.

The corridor seemed endless, a labyrinth of darkness that tested my determination.

Each step was an act of defiance against the fate they had tried to impose on me.

Finally, I reached a room that seemed to have been abandoned for a long time.

The shadows danced on the walls, creating disturbing and ever-changing shapes.

It was the perfect hideout, a place where I could stop and think without being discovered.

I sat on an old bench, the wood creaking under my weight.

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart.

My mind worked feverishly, trying to piece together the puzzle.

I had to find a way out of the structure, but I knew it wouldn't be easy.

My captors had set traps everywhere, and every move I made would be monitored.

But I had an advantage: my determination and my ability to adapt.

I had managed to break free from the illusion, to break the mental chains that held me prisoner. Now I had to find the way to physical freedom.

As I planned my next move, time seemed to slow down.

Every second was a precious gift, an extra breath of freedom. I knew I had to seize every moment, every opportunity.

I stood up, determined not to waste any more time.

I had to move, act decisively.

My freedom was still fragile, but my will was indomitable.

Emerging from the hideout, I slipped back into the dark corridors.

Each step was a step into the unknown, but also a step towards my liberation.

With silent steps, I approached the door, ready to face any danger that awaited me.

The darkness was no longer an enemy, but a precious ally.

I was ready to fight, to win this battle for my freedom.

My escape had only just begun, but I knew I wouldn't stop until I had found complete freedom.

And as I ventured deeper into the shadow, I felt an unyielding determination growing inside me.

I would no longer be a pawn in their game.

My mind was free, and now my body would also find its way to freedom.

But before I could do that, a sharp, pungent smell hit my nostrils.

I stopped, trying to identify the source.

The air was saturated with the smell of decomposition, a grim reminder of the lives lost in that place.

The walls seemed soaked with suffering, and every step brought me closer to a dark truth.

In the distance, I saw an immobile figure, shrouded in shadow.

The figure in the shadow seemed motionless, almost an integral part of that hell of suffering.

I approached cautiously, my heart pounding furiously in my chest.

The sharp smell grew stronger, a miasma of decay and death filling the air.

Finally, the figure became clear: a lifeless body, abandoned there as a warning. My stomach churned, but I couldn't afford to give in to disgust.

Hunger, that primal hunger that was beginning to devour me from within, became unbearable.

I bent over the corpse, the smell now unbearable, and with trembling hands drew the knife.

The blade glinted briefly before sinking into the cold flesh.

I felt the blade penetrate the stiff skin, emitting a horrible sound, like a lament.

The skin parted, revealing the flesh beneath, dark and decaying.

With tremendous effort, I held back the vomit and continued to cut.

The flesh yielded under the pressure of the blade, releasing a viscous, foul-smelling liquid that dripped down my hands.

Each movement of the knife was accompanied by a dull and disgusting sound, a sound that seemed to resonate throughout the room.

I cut off a piece of flesh and held it in front of me, the sight nauseating.

The flesh was dark, streaked with veins and decaying tissues.

I felt my stomach churn, but the hunger was stronger.

I brought the piece of flesh to my mouth, smelling the sharp, pungent odor that hit my nostrils.

I hesitated for a moment, then closed my eyes and sank my teeth in.

The taste was atrocious, a mix of decay and blood.

The flesh was soft and slimy, difficult to chew.

Each bite was an act of desperation, an attempt to survive amidst the horror.

I felt the viscous liquid trickle down my throat, an aftertaste of death that made me shiver.

I chewed slowly, trying to ignore the taste and texture.

Each bite was a battle against nausea, an act of will not to give in to despair.

The flesh slowly melted in my mouth, leaving a horrible aftertaste.

I felt my humanity crumbling with every bite, but I couldn't stop. The hunger was unbearable, and I had to survive.

The need to survive far outweighed any sense of morality and ethics.

I continued to cut and eat, the knife repeatedly sinking into the rotting flesh.

Each piece I cut off was a new challenge, a new horror to face.

The blood and decomposition fluids smeared my hands and mouth, an indelible reminder of my descent into darkness.

I fed on the cold and rotten flesh, each bite an act of desperation.

I had to survive at any cost.

My thoughts became increasingly dark, my mind a whirlpool of horrific images.

Every shadow seemed an enemy, every sound a harbinger of imminent death.

But as I chewed that rotten flesh, I felt a new strength growing inside me, a fierce determination.

I would not be just a victim, I would not fall without a fight.

I was ready to do anything to find my way to freedom.

I stood up, the bitter taste of cannibalism still on my tongue, and continued on my way.

Each step was an act of will, a refusal to surrender.

The shadows enveloped me, but I was no longer afraid.

I had become part of that darkness, a predator in search of its prey.