All the prisoners were inside the house.
Some were in the hall, some were standing on the sofa like it was a sinking ship, some hung from the railings like depressed bats, and some adjusted themselves in the stairs as if they were part of the interior design.
Basically, the house looked like a discount zoo that ran out of cages.
The back door was locked too, so yeah — no one was escaping this clown fiesta.
Sexis had placed candles everywhere, turning the darkness into something even creepier. The whole vibe screamed "Satanic Airbnb."
Everything was visible now, which meant it was time for us to talk before someone started licking the walls out of boredom.
Me, Erect, Sexis, and Ghost Jack were standing in the bathroom — the only place that didn't smell like someone's moral failure.
As their lord, I got personal space. The others got... trauma.
