(#BBBXCOVID1920) The Final Sadist

13 || Still

For the few days, the sights have always been the same at the underground dungeon. There's always the patterned shifts, the intimidating presence of guards with polished armor from head to toe, and the undying boredom and hunger to get out alive. With no one left behind.

With Fang being the only one with a decent enough wristwatch he managed to find, they know how much sunrises and sunsets have passed. And without knowing Yaya's fate, the three are just basically numb.

It's no time for crying. They've wasted so many hours for that already. Ying's body lies downheartedly on the wintry brick floor, Gopal strums at the bars of the cell, bursting the area with literal metallic music, and Fang has been leaning on the extra column at the corner of their chamber.

They're quiet. They can't make noise in proximity of vigilant guards probably behind one of the sharp hall turns.

It has just turned noon, though none of them bother to learn the time. Their heads itch for a better night of sleep. And when Fang decides it was a good idea to take a good, fidgety nap while he leans on a brittle wall, what sounded like bark snaps into the beam within.

Fang sinks shoulder first into the hollow area.

"G-Gah- What the actual fo-!" Fang wheezes.

Both Ying and Gopal shush him out. "Fang! Keep it down...!"

"S-s-s-sorry, my bad," he stammers, struggling to sit back up as he brushes away grains of tiny pebbles from the cobblestone and wood dust.

The two notice the hole in the wall, and Ying speeds to keep watch behind her as they scoot to Fang's side.

"Yo, what in tarnation is this?" Gopal whispers, peeking into the dusty recess behind Fang.

A plank of weak wood rests on the floor, covered in thin layers of cement and stone. Wooden beams stand chipped, leaning on a sloping wall at the back. Indentations corner a zigzag all the way to the ceiling, and Ying is very much the first brave soul to ever spot it.

The tracks mark until the shadows shroud them completely. They head upwards. Too far upwards.

Gopal looks to the side of their cell to guard as Fang whispers. "Errrrr...Miss Ying...I swear, I d-d-did not know that was there-"

He leans deeper into the shaft, his knees suddenly kneeling over something firm.

For the second he yelps, Gopal takes a palm over the young Fang's mouth. It wasn't a tack he knelt on, nor even a stone.

The lustrous bead is smooth between Fang's fingertips, made out of pearl-white terracotta. A hole digs through its center. Must've been from a bracelet, thought Fang. Two beautiful splatters of black paint stain its front and back. And as the boys gawk at the intricate little knickknack, Ying is less intrigued, sitting inside the hollow wall and looking up.

Her keen eyes are beginning to look sanguine. She pats the boys' shoulders, unblinking.

Only one word to mouth. Passageway.

※

Yaya doesn't have much of a choice but to spend her remaining time wisely in her bedroom. There's very little energy for her to pace around, and too much will to live to just shrivel on her bed and wish to die. There's no need to change clothes, she's too tired. She lies on bed with her fleece swing coat and leggings.

She isn't wearing the white boots she wore outside. She's wearing the old ones Ying gave her. Like they're the only things that remind Yaya of her sane life before all this mess unfolded.