Savannah's POV
Calvert had departed after delivering his twisted manifesto about the destiny he envisioned for me. His voice had grown increasingly vile with each passing word, painting pictures that made my stomach churn. But then again, Calvert had always been nothing more than vermin in expensive clothing. Designer suits and Italian leather could never mask the putrid essence of his weaponized inadequacy.
The moment Calvert vanished, they plunged me into complete darkness. No flicker of light penetrated the suffocating blackness that now surrounded me. I remained motionless, my wrists transformed into useless appendages, the color having shifted from deep purple to an alarming ebony. My spine felt as though it might snap under the relentless pressure, each vertebra grinding against the next in a symphony of agony. My kneecaps had disappeared entirely beneath the crushing weight of my own frame, leaving nothing but hollow pain where bone should be.
