You're stunned into silence, dropping both your umbrella and flashlight where you stand. Another voice can be heard behind you, gasping loudly before they yell out of fear and stumble back; in the next moment they're running away back where you both came, but it barely registers to you as your own shock completely paralyzes you. Rain pours, but you don't feel cold anymore.

But you do feel as if your insides are twisting around so hard you could hurl them out at any moment.

Eventually, you're able to step forth upon the cracked wooden platform of the old, broken merry-go-round, deteriorating from years of abandonment; the entire amusement park around you is like this, emptied and decaying and surrounded by a city skyline with nary a single light on within its buildings. The only source of light for miles around is the flashlight you've dropped in a puddle, but it's enough to illuminate the carousel horse you somehow force yourself to approach in a daze.

A woman—in her thirties, dressed in a black business dress, tights, and heels—is mounted upon the horse, both hands tied behind her back, and a rope wrapped around her waist to keep her in place. Her body slumps, completely and utterly lifeless, and it's clear why when there are numerous bloodied punctures along her torso.

I...

With trembling hands, you climb up with the bar underneath the horse, leaning over the body.

I have to get it out. I have to—

One hand brushes aside the woman's bangs while the other grips around a bloodied icepick lodged into the left eye socket. There's no eye within, but that doesn't seem to register to you; your shaky hand only pulls, and pulls, until you're able to yank it out with a sudden jerk.

You feel so hollow inside you're not able to think of what to do next. You don't even notice the blood on your hands.