The whip cracked against my back, parallel to my spine, the tenth one in the past five minutes. I could feel the whip leave behind a long bleeding scar on my back, much like the other nine that I had gotten earlier. There was one underneath my ribcage, another circling my arm, and one right in the middle of my left thigh. I couldn't remember where the other marks were because I was too busy focusing on the pain of the recent whip mark that manifested onto my back, the one that was parallel. Screaming for minutes, I almost get used to the pain to a point where it only becomes a small sting on my limbs.

I've been here too long.

Looking around, I see faces. I can only see the seven faces in front of me, but I know that there are more beyond my peripheral vision. There were probably 12 people total. Six of them were surrounding me in a hexogonal shape, at the points of a hexagon it seemed like. The other six were sitting down, in between those that are standing, by my guesses. They all wore long black layered robes, each with a peculiar insignia on the front of their robes.

They each looked like this:

The room that we were in was almost as dark as the people's eyes that surround me; instead of the whites surround the pupil like a normal human eye, their eyes seem to be filled with black nothingness.

But there was. As black as their eyes are, when I looked closely enough, it appeared to me as if something is stirring, or mixing, inside. Like they are still there, themselves, but something had taken over them, something that they were fighting on the inside as they they stared at me with blank faces.

The room around us wasn't completely black, but I couldn't see or sense where the walls were. If there were even any. Hearing a growl nearby,I twist my headtowardthe sound. It's t dark to tell what it is. The people that circled me each had a spotlight as bright as the sun shining down on them, but I couldn't see anywhere beyond them. I couldn't tell where the light was because I couldn't look up; the pain that intertwined with my spine didn't let me maneuver around as much as I'd like to.

WPSHHH.

Another slash. This time around my ankle. I howl in agony. My ankle stings, but I can't even move around to see who the whipper is behind me. I can only take a guess because my hands are chained to the floor, and my back still hurt. My muscles strained as I attempt to stand up, but it's no use. The chains are too close to the ground, and my spine could barely support me even though I stood up on my knees. 

They seemed to be chanting something in a monotone voice.

"으르렁 대" (Eureureong dae)

Why were they chanting that? Why were they all chanting "growl" in unison? All I could do was wonder, all while feeling the everlasting pain of the whip as it kissed my back repeatedly. How many times has it been now? Twenty? Thirty? Fifty? I lost count. That didn't matter though. I had to get out; I had to find a way to escape.

After what felt like years, I sat up in my bed, pain flowing through my veins. It felt too real. It couldn't be, though, right? Lifting up the sheets of the bed, there wasn't any evidence that the night before had ever even happened. And yet the pain was still there. It was just my imagination.

I hope.