NARRATIVE POV
Frankie’s eyes slowly cracked open. She found herself strapped to a large antique-looking chair, with her arms and legs bound to the armrest and legs of it. Next to it was a portable generator. That confused her, but it wasn't something she cared to take focus off just yet. She needed to figure out where she was first.
The room was dim and smelled of a musty old basement. She could detect water in the old; there was a leak coming from somewhere.
Where was she? She pondered as she pulled on the restraints, testing the strength of their hold.
“Strong, aren’t they?” a voice hissed from the dark corner to her right.
She didn’t recognize the voice. It was feral, almost raw.
“Who are you? Where am I?” Frankie demanded, remaining as calm as possible.
The voice chuckled. She
