Walk-In Freezer

“First shift, eh?” My new co-worker muttered while stirring up some of the meat frying on the giant grill. “Well, ya seem like a smart girl and I heard ya worked in kitchens before so you’ll be fine.”

“Right,” I said, and looked down. I tried not to stare at the massive tattoos covering his arms.

“Great, we’ll put ya on prep to start then,” The meat sizzled. “Actually, go n’ grab some more ground beef from the back wouldja, from the walk-in.”

“Sure thing.” I walked past the rows of pots and pans with things bubbling and sizzling, and the array of knives and cleavers laid out on the wall on a magnetic strip.

When I jerked the large steel handle on the freezer door it relented with a loud thunk. As I stepped inside the door immediately swung shut behind me. A wave of panic hit my body along with the intense cold – it was pitch black inside. It wasn’t until the lights flickered on with a hum that my panic rose to terror.

The fluorescent lighting illuminated rows of mutilated bodies hanging from meathooks, and revealed that the door had no handle on the inside.

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