The girl stirred in her sleep. She was cold. A scraping sound, like metal on stone threatened the edges of her consciousness. Slowly she began to awaken. It was cold in her apartment. Why was her bed cold? Then she heard it, the scraping sound. Damn bin men, she thought. Always making a racket in the alley behind her apartment. She opened her eyes.
That's when it hit her, something was dreadfully wrong! It was too hard, too cold, and way too dark. The scraping sound. Where am I, she thought? What happened? Why am I not in bed? A great panic seared through her body. This is not right, her mind screamed in panic. Be still! A calm thought echoed through her subconscious. Be still it whispered, over and over. Like a calm wave, it descended upon her mind and body. So the girl lay there in the dark, cold and alone, upon an alter of stone. A voice in her head, whispering, be still. Whilst a slow scraping searched in the darkness.
Time began to blur, as the cold stone sapped the warmth from her body. She did not move, as the incessant voice warned her, be still. As the cold and dark permeated her being, a warmth began to bite at her neck. She was wearing something, something warm. She ran her hand up her body, to the base of her neck, where it touched a small orb upon a chain. As her hand clasped it, a voice rang out within her.
"Welcome to the Crypt."