"N-no… that can't be…"
Only gods know—and they annoyingly wouldn't tell—how long the young boy had to be in this uncomfortable posture, straining his neck up, gawking and gaping with an unspeakable jitter at the horror that hung up there amongst other rotten roots and eerie stalactites—and he had been through such a hellacious lot of bad experiences, yet none compared to that which he feared the most. Such a dread muddled with hatred—for himself and for whoever had indulged themselves in such debauchery—that it almost stopped his heart for a beat,
"…but why Yūra… why it has to be her…"
Hanging upside down up there was someone—or at least something that was left of 'that someone'—who immediately caught the palsying globes of his moss-green eyes as 'that someone' began to bleed out of the darkness, revealing her twisted shape, along with the dread that she carried, into the tenebrous murk of the underground cave's deepest reach,
