I'm not pointing fingers, I'm searching for answers
The corridor was just as stifling as before. Tight and cramped, so dark she could barely make out the face of the strange man standing in front of her. Filthy. Covered in webs that she was unsettlingly certain were replenishing themselves between visits.
Echoing with the squeaking of rats just out of site but ever in threat of running over her feet.
She did not like it in here.
No.
She did not like the cramped feeling that she was just breathing in dust and mildew and...probably rat feces, but fortunately she didn't smell that part over all the must.
She shook her head, closing her eyes a moment and steadying herself.
She wasn't claustrophobic, not in any amount that it usually caused her problems.
But she was always worried she'd get turned around in this place, lost forever, turned into some mummy or dried up skeleton collapsed at some dead end that no one would find until the next hapless woman fell through a fake wall and got lost.