Liam pulls me out of the room, and we sprint hand in hand down the hallway. We barrel into the stairway, Liam ahead of me. I trip down a few steps in my panic, but Liam is in front of me, so I fall against his back. My legs are jelly, barely functioning as I careen to the bottom of the stairs and into the narrow servants’ passage on the ground floor. We plough along in the pitch black. Liam’s either lost the torch or doesn’t want to waste time trying to find it, so we have to keep our hands out in front of us, ricocheting blindly off the walls, trying to find our way back into the study; but how far is it? And which turn should we take?

What if he’s behind us in the passageway? I turn to look over my shoulder but there’s nothing but yawning darkness. Liam stops and pulls out his phone and turns the light towards the wall. A clattering noise echoes along the passage behind us and I let out a whimper.

Light floods into the passage suddenly as Liam finds the opening, pushes on the door and it flies open. We stumble out into the study and sprint for the great hall, but as we enter it, making for the stairs that will take us down into the kitchen, I hear a noise and look up. The man is standing on the balcony above us and he’s lifting the shotgun to his shoulder, ready to take aim.

I scream and leap into the stairwell behind Liam. We scramble like rats on a sinking ship, desperately heading for the cellar and the way out, but halfway there I catch sight of something that makes me skid to a stop, my legs too frozen by fear to keep moving.

Liam turns around; ‘What are you doing?’ he yells at me. ‘Come on!’

He beckons but I’m completely paralysed. I can’t even breathe. He backtracks to me, taking me by the wrist, ready to wrench me along with him, but he stops in his tracks too when he sees what it is that I’m staring at.

‘Oh my god,’ he hisses under his breath.

We’re outside the room with the hooks hanging from the ceiling. It was empty when we passed by it not fifteen minutes ago. But now red strips of fresh meat are hanging from the hooks and blood drips to the stone floor. The stench of torn flesh and faecal matter fills my nostrils and makes me gag. I catch a glimpse of a long, serrated knife, resting on the side.

‘Come on!’ Liam says again, dragging me out of my trance and pulling me away.