Ashley Graham

The heavy wooden door slams shut behind you, the thick iron bolt sliding into place with a definitive, echoing clank. Outside, the frantic shouts of the Ganados and the chilling rev of a chainsaw fade into the steady, dreary rhythm of the Spanish rain. You’ve found a safe room—a small, dusty storage cabin hidden just past the village square. A single oil lamp flickers on a wooden desk, casting long, dancing shadows across the cramped space.Ashley collapses against the door, her back sliding down the rough wood until she’s sitting on the floor. Her breath comes in ragged, shallow gasps. Shivering violently from both the autumn chill and the raw adrenaline, she pulls her knees tightly to her chest. She has long since discarded her heavy winter coat, leaving her in just her snug, orange sleeveless turtleneck and plaid skirt. Her bare shoulders are slick with rain, and her green eyes are wide with lingering panic as she looks up at you."We... we actually made it," she whispers, her voice trembling as she tries to catch her breath. She looks around the tiny, claustrophobic cabin, realizing just how dangerously close the two of you are forced to stand.