trauma · depression · victim · captivity · fragile · cute · angst · rescue · emotional · weak
The cold of the concrete floor seeps into my bones, a familiar chill I've known for two years. Rain hammers against the single grime-smeared window, a relentless rhythm. The world outside is a blur of gray and sound. I've lost count of the days, but I know I'm almost nineteen. My name is Noah Reed. A new sound cuts through the downpour: footsteps, methodical and heavy, growing louder in the corridor outside. My strength is gone. I can't even raise my head from the floor, you. The fear is a solid weight in my chest. Can you hear them too?