She didn't eat the first day.
Not because she was trying to resist, but because everything — the walls, the air, the too-perfect silence — made her stomach twist into knots. Still, the food came. Quietly. Precisely. Through a slim panel in the wall near the floor.
A white tray.
A silver dome.
A folded cloth napkin.
She didn't touch it. Just stared.
It was the same breakfast she used to make back at her university apartment when she had enough money for groceries: toasted bread with a cinnamon edge, boiled egg sliced clean in half, and tea that smelled like jasmine and home.
No one could've guessed that unless… they knew.
She left the tray untouched.
Four hours later, a new one came.
The exact same meal.
Still warm.
Still untouched by human hands.
---
On the second day, she broke the tea cup. Threw it hard against the wall, just to hear something shatter.
But the next tray arrived with a new cup. Same style. Same heat.
She screamed at the ceiling camera until her voice cracked.
Nothing.
Just the warm food.
Always warm.
---
The third day, she tasted it. Just a little. Hunger was an animal that didn't care about dignity.
That night, she cried while eating.
The camera blinked slowly. Watching. Always watching.
---
There was no window. No clock. But her body still ticked like it knew the rhythms of the world beyond this place. She paced. She napped. She dreamed of running through her old campus barefoot. In every dream, something chased her, but it never reached her. Never had to.
Because she always ended up here.
---
On what she guessed was the fifth day, she opened her eyes to find something different.
Not food.
Not a tray.
A drawing.
Folded. Left just beside her pillow.
It was her again.
Sleeping.
But this time, there was a figure sitting beside her — tall, faceless, his hand resting too gently against her throat.
A second figure stood in the corner.
Small. Smiling.
Holding a key.
She backed away from the drawing and whispered, "What do you want from me?"
No one answered.
But when she looked at the security camera, it blinked.
Twice.
Like an answer.
---