REXANNA
“I think she’s slowing down.” Rexanna murmurs, putting a bit more muscle into turning the hand crank. That doesn’t bode well for them, but they’re committed to the well and whatever was at the bottom of it now. The similarity to the image in the mirror and the girl’s general dampness and focus on water all pointed to this being the place they needed to be. Turning the crank as fast as they could, trying to raise the bucket – or whatever was attached to the end of the rope – was their only hope of escaping this waking nightmare they’ve found themselves in.
Hopefully it will be enough.
But she isn’t holding her breath.
Hopefully it will be enough.
But she isn’t holding her breath.
