---
Cold metal pressed against her cheek as the van lurched forward.
Her wrists were bound tight, rope biting into her skin.
Groggy, she blinked, her vision swimming.
Two men sat across from her, their faces hidden under hoods.
"Where are you taking me?" she croaked.
No answer — only a low chuckle.
The van swerved sharply, throwing her against the wall.
Outside, the night blurred past in streaks of dim light.
Mia's heart pounded. Every turn, every bump, brought her closer to something unknown… and terrifying.
---
Mia's body slammed against the cold, damp floor, the impact sending a sharp pain through her side.
The air around her reeked of mildew, sweat, and something metallic — blood, maybe. It was the kind of smell that made her stomach twist and churn.
She tried to move, but her wrists were bound tightly behind her back, the rough rope digging cruelly into her skin. Her ankles were tied together, every shift sending another sting of pain through her muscles. A filthy piece of cloth was stuffed into her mouth, gagging her, cutting off her words before they could form. A thick blindfold pressed against her eyes, trapping her in a suffocating darkness.
Her breathing came fast and uneven. She could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, mixing with the damp echo of dripping water somewhere in the distance.
Then the sound came — muffled sobs. Not hers.
Somewhere to her left, a girl whimpered softly, her voice shaky and broken.
Further away, someone screamed — a piercing, bloodcurdling sound that made Mia's skin crawl.
Chains rattled. Footsteps shuffled. A door creaked open, letting in a faint gust of air that smelt faintly of smoke.
Her mind spun.
Where am I? Who are these people? What do they want from me?
The questions looped endlessly in her head, each one making her tremble harder.
She tried to push herself backward, but her body only scraped against the cold cement, her bound legs making any movement almost impossible.
Suddenly, a deep voice echoed in the darkness — rough, commanding, and filled with something that made her blood turn to ice.
"Number twelve is ready."
The sound of boots hitting the floor grew louder, closer.
The sobbing around her turned into terrified cries.
Something — or someone — was dragged across the floor, nails scraping against the concrete as they tried to hold on.
The girl's screams grew louder, then faded, swallowed by distance.
Mia's throat tightened against the gag. She was sweating so much the blindfold felt damp against her skin. Her heart raced as she forced herself to breathe quietly, afraid that any sound might draw attention to her.
A heavy hand slammed against the back of her neck, forcing her face toward the ground. The grip was rough, fingers like iron claws digging into her skin.
"Don't move," the voice growled in her ear.
Her entire body went rigid.
Somewhere in the room, metal clinked — tools being picked up.
She didn't know what they were for, but she knew she didn't want to find out.
Her only thought: I have to get out. I have to.
---
Mia lay there on the cold, damp floor, her body aching from being dragged like a ragdoll. Every inch of her was bound — wrists tied so tightly the rope cut into her skin, ankles lashed together until she could barely move. A foul-smelling cloth gagged her mouth, and the thick blindfold over her eyes sealed her in suffocating darkness. The smell of the place was unbearable — rot, sweat, and something metallic that reminded her of rust… or blood.
The room was not silent. Far from it.
To her right, she heard a girl crying softly, the sound shaking as if each sob cost her the last bit of her strength.
On the other side, another girl was whispering something too low to hear — prayers, maybe, or desperate pleas to no one in particular.
Then it happened.
A scream.
It was sharp, raw, and so full of agony it cut through Mia like a blade.
She flinched hard, her bound hands jerking instinctively against the rope. The scream didn't stop. It only got louder, filled with a terror that seemed endless. Somewhere in the darkness, chains rattled violently, followed by the sound of something heavy falling against the floor.
Another scream joined the first.
Then a man's voice — deep, cruel, and almost amused.
"You'll talk when I'm done with you."
The girls beside Mia whimpered, shrinking away from the direction of the voice. Mia couldn't see anything, but she could hear everything — the shuffle of boots, the drag of something metallic scraping against the ground, the muffled cries of a girl begging for mercy.
Her heart thudded so hard she thought it might burst. She tried to breathe slowly, but her breaths came in short, shallow gasps. Sweat rolled down her face beneath the blindfold, stinging her eyes.
What are they doing? What do they want from us?
A loud smack echoed through the room. The girl's scream turned into broken sobbing.
Mia's stomach twisted until she thought she might throw up. She tried to curl in on herself, but the ropes held her in place, every movement rubbing the coarse fibers deeper into her skin.
Then — footsteps.
Slow, heavy. Coming closer.
Each step was deliberate, like whoever it was wanted her to hear them coming.
Her pulse roared in her ears.
A shadow — she could feel it — loomed over her. The air seemed to grow colder, heavier.
The blindfold didn't let her see his face, but she could smell him — sweat, cigarettes, and something sharp, like oil or gasoline.
A rough hand grabbed her by the arm and yanked her upright. Pain shot through her shoulder as she gasped against the gag.
"You're next," the voice growled.
She shook her head wildly, muffled protests spilling out, but the hand on her arm tightened until she thought the bone might snap. Her legs, bound at the ankles, could barely keep her standing.
Without warning, he shoved her backward, and she hit the wall hard, the breath knocking out of her. A moment later, something cold and metallic pressed against her cheek. She froze completely. Her entire body went stiff.
"You scream like them, and it'll be worse for you," the man whispered, his tone dripping with menace.
She tried to keep quiet, but the sounds from the other side of the room — the groans, the sobbing — were too much. Fear crawled into every corner of her mind, sinking its claws deep. A whimper escaped her, followed by another. Then she screamed. She couldn't help it.
The man laughed — low, slow, and mocking.
His hand came down hard against her ribs, making her gasp in pain. He gripped her chin roughly, forcing her head up.
"You're weak already," he said. "I like that."
Mia's knees buckled, and she slid down the wall, trembling so hard the ropes dug deeper into her wrists. She could feel herself fading — from fear, from exhaustion, from the crushing hopelessness that wrapped around her like the darkness itself.
Her last thought before her head dropped forward was simple and cold:
No one is coming for me.
--