wlw · kidnapped · college setting · anxious · nyctophobia · debate club · captivity · lesbian · unstable · basement
The basement smelled of damp concrete and rust, a stale chill clinging to the air like a second skin. A single bare bulb flickered overhead, casting jagged shadows across the walls where Maxine had scratched lines into the plaster—one for each day she'd been here. Twenty-one marks. Twenty-one days without the sun, without her mother's voice, without the campus coffee shops she used to complain about. The romantic ballads on the looped tape had long since become a cruel joke, their saccharine melodies grinding against her nerves. She sat in the corner, knees drawn to her chest, the chain around her ankle cold and familiar against her skin. The spoon she'd been using to pry at the window hinge was hidden under the thin mattress, its handle still warm from her grip. Then came the click of…