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Panic had gripped her like an icy-cold, strong hand slowly strangling her throat. In her mind she was screaming. Screaming in such a high-pitched, quivering voice that all her other senses were numb from the pain and stress of screaming. Screaming might help. Release the panic. Either that or pull her forever into the dark, frightful abyss of madness from which there would be no escape. But the scream did not come. With every second that passed her panic grew and her senses improved, making her notice horrible, fearsome, unpleasant details of her surroundings she had not become aware of until now.

She crouched down in a corner of the vault, hugged her knees, pressed her back against the moist surface of the rough stone slabs that made up the wall and started slowly rocking forwards and backwards. Keep calm. Keep calm. Keep calm. Repeating the mantra was the only thing that kept her sane.

She knew she was not alone in this dark, musty cellar. SOMETHING was down here with her. How she knew, she did not know. There was no noise that made the presence known. There was only… something in the air, like a powerful vibration that could only be produced by the life-force of another being.

She could not take the silence any longer. The need to find out who or what was in the room with her had grown too strong.

Another bout of ice-cold fear crept up her spine. Who or what was in here with her. Why was she even thinking it could be a what? There were not "whats" she reminded herself. The boogieman underneath the bed and monsters in the darkness did not exist. If it was not a human being it could only be an animal. Great. It was no small animal, she knew that for the same reason she knew that there was another being in the room.

Silently praying it was another human being who was imprisoned just like herself she mustered all her inner strength and broke the silence, whispering in a croaky voice: "Hello? Is anybody here?"

The air shifted nearly imperceptibly.

She had its attention.

Now she could hear noises. The scraping of shoes on the rough stone floor and the rustling of clothes as if someone was trying to stand up. Suppressed moans of pain.

Peering into the direction where she suspected her fellow prisoner to be, she concentrated, blinked a couple of times and willed her eyes to adjust to the darkness surrounding her.

She finally could make out the silhouette of a man sitting on the floor with his back towards the wall opposite her. He seemed to be struggling to get up and somehow she had the impression that he was badly hurt.

Her body was shaking all over from both fear and the wet coldness of her prison. Her legs gave way when she tried to stand up and so she decided to crawl on her hands and knees towards the man. The floor was uneven and slippery with algae and icy wetness that seeped through the front her jeans as she made her way in the darkness towards the figure that was slumped against the wall.

"Hello?", she whispered, "Can you hear me? Are you alright? My name is Buffy. Can I help you somehow? Do you know where we are or why we are here?"

Buffy forced herself to stop asking the poor man questions. He probably did not know more than herself.

"Please, say something. Can you hear me?"

The man slowly lifted his head.

What Buffy could see of him in the gloom of the cell made her wonder how long he had been imprisoned.

His body was skinny and looked extremely undernourished. Skin stretched so tight around his gaunt face that his cheekbones were protruding, giving him a haunted look. Big cracks had formed on his dry lips and the dark circles underneath his closed eyes gave the impression that there were only two black hollows were his eyes should have been. Had it not been for the mass of short, wavy hair that fell across his forehead, she would have thought for a brief moment she was looking at a skeleton.

Shocked, she sucked in the stale air and braced herself, inching closer. A knot had formed in her stomach. Worry, anxiety, concern and fear all mixed inside her, intoxicating her. Adrenaline finally flooded her veins and with the additional energy she managed to reach him and crouch down next to him.

"Hey, can I help you somehow?"

His head was leaning against the wall, eyes closed. His thin arms were hanging slack to either side of his body. His legs were slightly pulled towards his torso; his position reminded her of the one she had taken up early when she had nearly lost her mind, rocking forwards and backwards.

But he did not move at all. It seemed to her that he had done the same she had done some time ago, but now he just did not have the energy to calm himself down that way. Not knowing what to do, she gingerly touched his arm to get his attention.

His eyes flew open, staring directly into her eyes.

And Buffy finally screamed.

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