Blankness.
Silence, except for the frantic hammering against something…
No. Nooo.
I try to scream, but no sound comes out. Just a dry, pathetic gasp. My throat feels tight, raw. My mouth is incredibly dry, my tongue thick and heavy. I lick my lips, tasting nothing but dust and despair.
I think I’d give anything for a drink of water right now.
I am naked. Utterly, completely naked. The shock of it hits me hard, stealing the last of my self-control. There’s no shame, no embarrassment in this moment. Only a raw, primal terror mixed with the dawning horror of my situation.How did I get here? What is this place?
My eyes adjust slowly to the harsh light, scanning the concrete walls. They’re bare, featureless. No windows, no doors visible. Just the four grey walls and the unforgiving floor.
It feels like some awful repetition of my previous cell, only there’s grey now instead of white.
As I try to stand, something goes off. It’s a noise, a sound. A high-pitched, grating shriek that seems to pierce the air itself, vibrating through my very bones.
It’s so loud it feels like it’s going to make my eardrums burst.
I instinctively clasp my hands over my ears, pressing my palms hard against my temples, trying to block it out. It doesn’t help much. The sound is everywhere, wrapping around me, suffocating me. It’s like nails on a chalkboard but a thousand times worse; a continuous, agonizing whine that threatens to shred my sanity.
And then it stops as suddenly as it started, leaving a deafening silence behind.
The silence is almost as terrifying as the scream. It amplifies the emptiness of the room, the coldness of the concrete. I stay frozen, hands still pressed to my ears, listening intently while waiting for that awful noise to start again.
I push myself up slowly, using my hands to lever myself onto shaky knees. My legs feel weak, unsteady. The movement sends a jolt of dizziness through me. I sway, catching myself on the cold wall.
The door slides open with a soft hiss, and a shadow falls across the concrete floor.
He’s tall, lean, and moves with a predatory grace. I know from the second I see him that this man is not Antonio. He wears all black from head to toe. Black trousers that fit him like a second skin, hugging his long legs. Black boots that scrape faintly on the concrete floor as he takes one step after another, and a black t-shirt that absorbs the little light that reaches the bottom of the walls. His faceis a strangers, his eyes are dark, and they seem to catalogue me, to measure me as he takes in the room and then focuses entirely on me.
He stops a few feet away, just out of reach.
Who is he? What the fuck is going on here?
He doesn’t speak immediately. He just stares.
And the air shifts. Changes.
The oppressive silence is broken by his breathing. A low, steady rhythm that somehow makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and a voice in my head scream that I’m in danger.
Only, there’s nowhere for me to go. Nowhere I can escape to.
He raises a long, thin metal looking staff in his hand. It’s polished chrome, sleek and menacing. The end glows with a faint, eerie blue light, humming almost imperceptibly.
He looks at me and I feel a jolt of pure, unadulterated fear shoot through my system. I want to run, I want to scream, I want to disappear.
But I can’t.
I can’t do any of those things.
He raises the staff, the tip aimed the way one does a sword they’re about to impale you on. The humming sound intensifies slightly. I close my eyes, bracing myself for the impact, for the pain I know must come.
Crack.
The sound is sharp, loud in the sudden silence. The staff connects squarely with my shoulder, the metal biting into my flesh with shocking force. Pain explodes outwards, a white-hot agony that makes me cry out, but no sound escapes my throat.
I gasp, stumbling back, clutching at the injured shoulder, the shock of it stealing my breath.
