I woke up to a sharp, throbbing pain pounding against my skull. My vision blurred as I scanned my surroundings—an unfamiliar room, dimly lit, sterile. Panic surged through me.
This wasn't my room.
This wasn't anywhere I recognized.
I bolted upright, stumbling toward the door. Locked. Of course.
I yanked at the handle, cursed under my breath, and moved to the window. With shaking hands, I pushed it open and looked out.
Darkness cloaked the grounds, but the floodlights and armed guards pacing below were impossible to miss.
High walls, steel gates. Escape? Not a damn chance—not without getting caught, or worse.
My heart thundered in my chest. What the hell is this place?
And then, the guilt crept in. It was already late.
Mom… Maliya… they'd be frantic by now. A lump formed in my throat as I pictured them. But then… Isaac. My heart twisted painfully. Isaac. I had promised—promised—I would never leave his side.
My fingers instinctively reached for the necklace he gave me. It rested cold and delicate against my chest, a cruel reminder of everything I'd lost. God, I miss them. My life. My friends. My family. Everything felt like it was slipping through my fingers.
I began pacing, trying to think—anything, any plan to escape this place. And then my eyes caught the mirror across the room. I froze.
I looked like hell.
Hair tangled and wild, face pale, eyes hollow. I looked like a ghost of myself—ragged, tired, broken. I hadn't showered since my shift. I felt dirty… contaminated… like the stench of this place had already started to seep into my skin.
Whoever had taken me—at least they'd left me a room and a bathroom. How thoughtful. Maybe they wanted me clean before they broke me.
Still, I needed the bath. My muscles ached, my skin crawled, and my head swam. I dragged myself into the bathroom and let the hot water pour over me. For a moment—just a moment—I allowed myself to feel something like peace.
But I wasn't stupid. A warm bath doesn't mean mercy.
Maybe they were being kind now to soften the blow for whatever nightmare came next.
Once I was out, I scanned the room for clothes, expecting rags. Instead, the wardrobe was filled with neatly arranged, expensive-looking outfits—my size. Every piece. My stomach turned.
Were there others?
Girls before me? Was this a routine? Were they always this prepared? Were they slave traders? Or something even worse?
The questions clawed at my mind like nails on glass. This place—it was getting into my head. Warping it. I needed to get out before it broke me completely.
I pulled on a simple outfit and sank onto the bed, my thoughts spiraling deeper into the dark. My jaw clenched.
No matter what it takes… I'm getting out of here.