She didn't know it, but she had only needed a better vantage point. She only needed to walk around the entirety of this room, to find the stairs, and then she could see what she painted on the wall. She had finally found the stairs though, which was most important, because the room felt like it might begin boiling the sweat on her brow. She had to get out of this place even if she didn't know where she was heading. Rigley turned around just before she took her first step down. She still remembered how she first felt when she reached this room, like freedom had finally been bestowed from some all-loving God. Now, though, as she looked back at it, she didn't understand how any of that was possible. The place was a nightmare. And, God, what had she been doing? Marks' body lay collapsed on the floor with the fucking parrot feasting on his neck now, just digging in like his jugular was some kind of buffet.
