Editing CubexCursedxCurious:Volume1 Chapter1 (section)

===Part 3===

Dull-colored stone floor was all that there was. The room smelled of metal and of metal-like stink. The air was congested but it wasn't stagnant.
The air was clear. Clear like the air inside a tomb or a casket.
There wasn't anything that could tell time. There was only a dead space, without a trace of any living things.
The only thing that you could feel from there was the constancy and blockade.
The mass of steel that was left there didn't have anything to do other than to whisper the same words over and over again.
It wasn't even said aloud. It just made circles within its mind. Like an endless loop.
When it's awake, while it's asleep, when it opened its mind, and when it closed its mind.
It's freezing, it's cold, it's dark, it's freezing, it's cold, it's dark, it's freezing, it's cold, it's dark, it's freezing, it's cold, it's dark.
It went on and on-----

She opened her eyes. There was nothing inside the Japanese room. She raked up and embraced the futon that was given to her. There was only the sound of scraping futon.
There was some warmth left in the futon but it was a false warmth... It was just an accumulated heat from covering someone. So, it was the same as having no warmth at all.
Shards of her dream sent a chill down her spine. She knew that there was a difference between this room and the dungeon room where she was kept.
But, even though there was a slight warmth and sound inside this room, she couldn't help thinking that this room was the same as the place where she was kept.
She silently opened the sliding door and walked along the porch. Moon light illuminated her path as she arrived in front of another room. She entered.
A boy was sleeping. He was laying in an odd position and his futon came off below his waist. A slight snort came from a faintly smiling face.
The girl kneeled down before the rolled-up futon and slowly reached for it. She stroked it for a while, then she brought it up to her cheeks.
It was someone else's smell.
Someone else's warmth.
That, perhaps, was the first time that she felt those things.