The factory had gone unused for a number of decades.

That was clear.

The soot had painted the whole building, and thick lines from rain and moisture crawled out from underneath windows and any edges. Almost like the whole building was weeping. The crying factory felt oddly symbolic to Cynthia, but for reasons she couldn't quite put into words. Aside from the shuffling of feet and quiet murmurs of teens, the world was totally silent. Not even the distant chatter of the city or suburbs could be heard now.

Clearly the other members were similarly overwhelmed by the sublime nature of their situation, as they all seemed to lose their bravado in the face of it all. One of the braver boys turned back to face the group, poorly hiding his nerves.

"Lads, I think it might be worth turning back, not gonna lie."

A few girls, still sour from the taunts that led them here, scoffed. "Woah, excuse me!" The boldest of them -a short girl known as Esmae- stood up, "You just forced us all over here. Can't wimp out now, you prick."

She marched forward and forced a window open (permanently, and sharply) with a nearby rock, before punching out the rest of the pane.

"Go on then," She gestured at the entrance. "What's all the fuss about?"

Cynthia hated to see the evening turn so tense, and chose to side with Esmae. After all, the lad would recover much faster, she thought.

"Yeah, go on! there's nothing in there, anyway. If there was I'm sure it would have reacted to the smashed window. We'd've heard it." To her discomfort, she noticed she had been edging towards the window anyway. If anyone was to go inside first, now it had to be her. Shit.

"Why don't you go in then, Big-Mouth?" He taunted, and Cynthia froze. Of course it would be turned back on them. And calling her a big mouth? Why, she could go over there and-
Oh. Right. She'd go over and do what? He's twice her size. There was actually no choice in the matter, and she could tell none of them were keen to follow her in.

"Go on, there's nothing inside. You said so yourself," The bully of a boy smirked. The teens had formed a circle around them. The only way out being the window.

It struck her now that this was a refinery, responsible for clearing up the crystals that powered the entire city. Huge lines of claws and harnesses draped from the ceiling, and brilliant red dust still coated the floor. It occurred to her that this was perhaps not the best thing to be breathing in, and maybe that's why there were no live workers, but she couldn't exactly turn back. Well. She COULD but it would be a fate worse than death. Besides, this stuff probably sold for a fortune. if she came back properly equipped this wouldn't be nearly as bad. As she made her way deeper into the building, she became aware of a faint humming, and her heart dropped at such a velocity that she worried she'd have a heart attack. Shit. There is something in here! Oh my Gods. Oh no, I'm going to die. I'll be eaten or stabbed or shot or-

*

The remaining youths kicked at the gravel beneath them.
"Do you think it was smart to send Cynth in there alone? The poor girl's probably freaking out," Esmae looked up into the sky, woefully aware of the oncoming rain cloud.
"She'll be fine. There is genuinely nothing in there, this place hasn't seen people in decades," another girl reassured her, whilst picking at the aglets on her shoes. They noticed that the boys of the group apparently had zero opinions on the matter, judging by their silence. One girl opened her mouth to challenge their complacency when Esmae hastily waved her hand as a signal to pack it in.

"Shush! Shh," She frantically continued waving her hand, grabbing the attention of all of the loiterers, "Do you hear that?"

Faintly, almost inaudibly yet unmistakably, the sound of sobbing could be heard within.

"Fuck," several teens muttered at once, before they all scrambled to fit through the window and rescue her.

Whilst Cynthia had admired the building that had devoured her, these kids did not. They ran through the halls, kicking up microscopic rubies as they went, until they found her. Cynthia had sunk into the fetal position, her wails now tuned down into silent sobs, eyes swollen with tears and dirt.

"Hey, hey," Esmae rushed down to her side, and held Cynthia's hand. Esmae's hand was warm, they always were. "You're okay. You're still alive. We've come back to make sure of that. Don't worry. Describe my hands to me."
"They- They're warm," Cynthia tripped over her words, they spluttered from her mouth like seawater. "Your hands are warm. The floor is cold. I- I'm holding your hands I know that." She laughed weakly, "Thanks, Esmae." She stared at the girl and felt tears sting at her eyes again. "Sorry."

"Oh, Shut up. Come on, let's get you home." Esmae helped Cynthia off the ground, and threw their bully a dirty look.
"Wait," Cynthia remembered the humming, "Could you all go quiet for a second? I heard a humming when I came down here, and it freaked me out and then I panicked and I, well, I swear there's something else here." They all did as she said, and sure enough, the humming persisted.