IN PROGRESS....Lucy Speaks

Through the opening, the immediate and overpowering stench of excrement and sweat nearly made him vomit. He turned away, taking a quick breath. Peering around the door, a dim emptiness greeted him. He sensed no movement, heard nothing. Satch felt the other side of the door, sheathed in a thick, padded material. Covering his mouth, he hovered in the doorway. 

The room possessed only two small windows at ground level, covered in the same fashion as the other basement windows. Small slivers of the sun made their way inside, but not enough to brighten the room.  

Stepping over the threshold, he ran his light into every corner. More padding adorned the walls. Still, he saw nothing but dust mites and cobwebs. Near a window, a drain embedded in the concrete floor wore a ring of liquid. Satch walked over and bent down, running his hands through it. Sniffing, he recognized the iron laced odor of blood. The knots grew tighter in his gut.

A low wall separated the furthest portion of the room. He inched closer, crouching, as Duffy rounded the door behind him. Satch gestured to him to go high as he went around the wall.  The SWAT leader stayed by the door, gun trained their direction. 

Satch nodded and burst around the wall, shining his light before him. Then he sucked in his breath, causing a wave of coughing from the forgotten stench. He covered his face with an arm and stared. “Jesus H. Christ.” 

His light shone on the corner of a stained, moldy mattress, lying on the floor against the wall. Tufts of padding seeped from gashes in its side, dyed red and brown like little blood clots dotting the shreds of material. What looked like a broken broomstick, the tip encrusted with blood, rested against a thick chain bolted into the floor. The chain ran up onto the makeshift bed, and Satch followed it with his light. Zip-tied to the end was an emaciated wrist and naked little girl.

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