Chapter 8 - The Descent
Sarah stared blankly at the intensely glowing screen of her phone, her entire body visibly shaking uncontrollably.
She frantically tried to strictly call Mark's number back, but it instantly went straight to a dead, disconnected voicemail tone.
The massive, silent mansion truly felt like a sprawling, luxurious tomb slowly closing in around her.
She completely knew she absolutely should call the police immediately, but she also knew they would rapidly find the bloody secrets she was hiding.
Gripping the silver revolver incredibly tightly with both shaking hands, she slowly walked toward the basement door located in the kitchen.
The heavy wooden door loudly creaked as she forcefully pulled it open, revealing a pitch-black staircase plunging directly into the unknown darkness below.
"Mark?" she whispered terrified, her voice violently trembling with absolute, paralyzing terror.
No one verbally answered her, but the distinct, mechanical hum of a motorized wheelchair suddenly boldly echoed from the bottom floor.
She desperately flicked the light switch, but the power had been intentionally and cleanly cut to the entire lower level.
Using the weak, flickering flashlight on her cell phone, she cautiously descended the wooden stairs, her tense finger firmly planted on the gun's trigger.
The expansive basement was an enormous underground parking garage where her husband used to strictly keep his massive classic car collection.
The narrow beam of her weak flashlight rapidly swept across the cold concrete floor, violently stopping on a truly terrifying sight.
Mark was tied incredibly tightly to a heavy concrete pillar, a dirty gag stuffed forcefully and painfully into his mouth.
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His eyes were totally wide with horrific, unspeakable fear as he frantically shook his bruised head at her.
Before Sarah could even remotely process the shocking, twisted scene, a brilliant, blinding floodlight snapped on aggressively from the far corner of the dark garage.
