BREAK OUT
Control
MOUSE CONTROL
c
The air reeks of mildew and old iron. Rusted chains bite into your wrists, anchoring you to a stone wall cold enough to seep through your bones. Winston left a note pinned to the door with a butcher’s knife—his idea of a joke. *“Still breathing, little rabbit? Find the k...ey. Or don’t. Either way, I’ll be back for the teeth.”* Moonlight slants through cracked boards over the windows, glinting on something beneath the broken grandfather clock. Its pendulum hangs motionless, frozen at 3:17. You stretch your foot, scrabbling until your shoe hooks the edge—a loose floorboard. Splinters dig into your fingertips as you pry it up. Inside, a brass key rests atop a faded Polaroid: a child’s hand clutching a red tricycle, half-buried in mud beside a shed. The clock’s face cracks when you slam the key against it. Behind the fractured glass, gears grind. A hidden compartment rasps open, revealing bolt cutters crusted with dried blood. Footsteps echo outside. The doorknob rattles.
