The teenagers huddled close together in the loft of the old abandoned barn, shivering with fear and exhaustion. The boy wrapped his arms around the two girls, attempting to warm and comfort them the best he could. They barely noticed the disgusting feeling of their torn, filthy clothes, stained with blood and sweat. They had also ceased to smell the putrid, metallic odor of death lurking below the loft, coming from the body of the boy who had once been their fellow companion. They could see only the few things illuminated by the candle in the loft's corner.

It had been three days since their shadowy captor had left them, and they were weak with hunger and terror. There was no escape from the barn. The door was locked, and there were no windows. Even if there had been, there was no way off of the loft. There was no ladder. Their companion, who had made an attempt to jump down from the loft to escape, had fallen 50 feet to his death. None of the remaining teenagers was eager to follow in his footsteps.

One of the girls sobbed silently, making only a dry, rasping noise in the back of her throat. The other girl held her hand, and the boy stroked her hair. None of them spoke. Their voices had given out long before from screaming, all to no avail.

Suddenly their heads jerked up as they heard the sound of a key turning in a lock. Then there came a loud creak as the rusty barn door pushed open, and the thundering footsteps and cackle of delight of their captor. The teens shrank desperately against the wall, clutching each other in panic. Their captor was back. Their torture had only just begun.