he is gone.

she sits on the bed, the curtains open on starlight, on a whole wide universe, and she thinks of him. all alone, in a cell, in a cage. the waiting he will have to endure - she knows about the waiting.

waiting in the dark, waiting in the heat, waiting for the monsters to come. yes, she's been where he is. it was her turn, now it's his.

of course, she thinks of the box. it was the first thing in her mind when she opened the door. when she smelled it - blood and brimstone.

he isn't dead, she knows that much. they don't kill, or not exactly.

it's worse than that.

so it begins.