In the dead of night, when most would be sleeping soundly and unaware of the world around them, I woke up.
I was left unattended in a small, dark room—no windows, no furniture, just a few large boxes pushed up against a wall. I was sprawled on the ground like they had dragged me here, dropped me, and left without a second thought. My body ached from every angle; every breath sent stabbing pains into my chest, and my head throbbed as if trying to split open.
The air smelled faintly of dust and mold, thick and suffocating. Every sound—the creak of a pipe, the scuffle of a rat, the drip of water—was amplified, echoing off the bare concrete walls. I tried to make sense of where I was, but my thoughts were hazy, like swimming through fog.
I could hear my own heartbeat pounding, loud enough that I thought it might betray me. My skin crawled under the weight of silence. Somewhere, deep inside, a small voice whispered that the people who had brought me here were still nearby. Every shadow looked like it could hide them, every faint sound like an alarm.
But still, I knew I had to leave. I forced myself up, pressing my palms to the cold floor to steady myself. Leaning against the wall to catch my breath, I took a careful look around the room—and yeah, I was definitely in a storage closet.
My phone, my bag, even my shoes were gone. Probably long gone by now. That's kidnapping 101 for you.
I rifled through a few open boxes. Mostly useless—papers, broken pieces of metal, a shattered mug. Nothing I could use.
I crept to the door and listened for movement. The faintest murmur or scraping could mean danger. After several minutes, the hallway remained quiet.
Slowly, I tested the handle—it turned. Unlocked. Of course. They didn't expect me to be awake so soon, and apparently they didn't care enough to post guards.
The building was enormous, older than I initially realized. The walls had chipped paint, pipes hung exposed, and the floor creaked under the weight of my cautious steps. Somewhere deep inside, I wondered how many others had been trapped here before me, and how few had walked out alive.
I moved down the hallway, hugging the walls, listening to my own breathing. Every footstep, every small sound made me flinch. I passed doors, overturned crates, and a puddle reflecting the weak moonlight that managed to filter through a small crack in the ceiling. The silence of the building was oppressive—so complete that even distant voices below sounded like shouts, making it easy to know when to hide.
I found a staircase leading to the main floor just as voices approached from below. My heart nearly stopped. I turned and ducked behind the nearest door, pressing myself flat against the wall. The hinges creaked slightly as I shifted.
Shit.
I held my breath, biting my lip, willing them not to notice.
"Did you hear that?" a gruff voice said, deep and suspicious, getting louder as its owner came up the stairs.
"Yeah, but don't freak out over every noise you hear. This building's old—it creaks all the time," another man replied. His voice was less gruff but sharper, with a tense edge that made it clear he wasn't the type to joke around.
"What if it's the girl?" the first one muttered.
No, no, no. This is my only chance to get out—I can't lose it now. I'm in no condition to fight. If they decide to search, I'll be caught for sure. It'll all be over.
My head pounded harder, panic pulsing behind my eyes. I could feel the walls closing in, the floor trembling under their footsteps. Every nerve screamed that they were close enough to see me if I moved, and my body threatened to give out from exhaustion and fear.
"It's not," the second man said flatly. "Peter gave her enough drugs to keep her out until tomorrow. She's not going anywhere."
Minutes crawled by. My pulse slowed only slightly once their footsteps faded. I exhaled a small sigh of relief, careful not to let it make a sound.
I opened the door carefully, sliding out as quietly as possible. Every step down the stairs was deliberate. The main floor was larger, more cluttered, and louder than the upper floor, filled with shadows of crates, rusted machinery, and a few scattered guards. I couldn't risk the front or back exits, so I scoped the walls, looking for an alternative. A window on the side of the building caught my eye—a small rectangle, partially blocked by debris.
The office it belonged to was trashed—shattered glass, toppled chairs, papers soaked with rain and dust. I edged through carefully, careful not to brush against anything that could betray me. My heart pounded in my chest. Every small sound seemed like an alarm bell. I could almost hear the echoes of my own footsteps bouncing back at me from every angle, reminding me how fragile my escape was.
The window opened to a dense forest. Moonlight reflected faintly on wet leaves, and no guard patrolled that side. Perfect.
The frame was narrow, and it took nearly all my strength to lift my left leg over and squeeze through. My muscles screamed, my body trembling from exhaustion and cold, but I made it. I paused on the other side, letting the rain pour over me, soaking me to the bone. The cool water burned, but it was alive—it reminded me I was still breathing, still fighting. I could feel my heartbeat hammering against my ribcage, my lungs aching as they filled with wet, cold air.
Drip… drip… drop…
The rain intensified, slashing against my arms and face. Thunder rolled across the sky like an approaching army. I shivered and pushed forward, my bare feet sinking into the soft, wet earth. The forest swallowed me in shadows, twisting shapes of branches and leaves that seemed to reach for me. I stumbled over roots, my soaked clothes clinging to me like heavy chains. Every step was a battle, every breath a reminder that I was still alive.
The farther I walked, the darker it became, until the world shrank to blackness around me. My legs faltered, and I fell hard, unable to catch myself. Pain flared from every bruised muscle. I lay there, broken and numb, listening to the storm and feeling the weight of everything I had lost.
Is this as far as I can go?
Memories crashed into me. Screams. Blood. Faces twisted in terror. Everything I loved—gone. Everyone I cared about—gone. I was the only one left. The weight of that reality pressed down like stone, threatening to crush me entirely.
I tried to scream, to let the pain out, but my chest and throat burned, and no sound came. So I cried silently, tears mingling with the rain.
My body shook with grief and exhaustion, with rage and despair. Every heartbeat felt like a hammer striking against my fragile will, but I clung to the tiniest spark of life that remained.
But they hadn't won. Not yet.
They wanted me alive, broken, suffering. They intended to torture me until my final breath. To hell with that. If I died, it would be on my terms—not theirs.
Did I deserve to die like a dog? I didn't know. Depends on who you asked. But I would not deny it. Not with who I was. Not with who my family had been.
Even so, I could feel the edge of death pressing closer. Every shiver, every heartbeat screamed of my fragility. Yet in that pitiful, soaked, aching body, I smiled. I would not give them satisfaction.
As I lay there dying, my enemies were still asleep, unaware that I had escaped. When they woke up and discovered I was gone, they'd search high and low, throw money around, threaten and torture and hunt—only to find me already dead. Right under their noses. The thought made me laugh—a bitter, broken sound swallowed by the storm.
Eventually, I lifted my gaze. Through the clouds, a perfect circle revealed a handful of stars. One star shone alone, defiantly bright. I stared at it, heart hammering. Something in me drew toward it—a tiny spark of hope, or defiance, or curiosity.
I stood, legs trembling, rain soaking me through. I walked toward the star, each step heavy but determined.
"This is it for me," I whispered, "There's nothing left in this world anymore. Everything and everyone I ever loved is gone, and I'm alone with these unbearable memories and no strength left to keep fighting. It was a short life—but one I'm satisfied with. If it's my fate to die… then let me die quickly."
I bowed my head in a silent prayer for the lost, then lifted my eyes again. Thunder rolled closer, winds shook the trees, rain lashed my face. And then—clear as day—a voice cut through the storm.
"Well, since you no longer have something to live for in that world… how about coming to mine?"
Lightning exploded overhead, bright enough to erase everything in its path. I flinched, covering my face. The thunder that followed was the loudest I had ever heard—rumbling through the earth itself.