Fear

5

The floor beneath me swam in and out of focus. I stared, trying to get my eyes to settle, to make sense of the shapes. My head throbbed like something was knocking against my skull from the inside out. Everything felt off. Like my body wasn't quite mine anymore.

I only tried marijuana once when I was fifteen-one stupid night with kids I don't even remember-but this wasn't like that. I didn't feel high. This was heavier. Almost painful. Almost like I was drowning. The world around me tilted, dipped, then corrected itself in jerky movements. I was hallucinating.

The drug Dylan gave me was clearly more than just a sedative-it hit like a tranquilliser on steroids.

And I was terrified.

Even in the thick fog, the fear came through strong. It coiled low in my stomach and made me ill.

Beyond the door, I could just about make out the sound of movement. Footsteps. Shouts. Muffled screams. Panic, pain, pleading. Sounds I'll never unhear.

I wanted to believe I was dreaming. That I'd wake up soon, safe. But the pain told me otherwise. Not just in my head, but in my back, my arms and legs.

I was tied to a chair.

I shifted slightly, trying to move my arms. Rope dug into my skin. I blinked, forcing my eyes up and around.

The room was dim and cold-bare brick walls, cracked concrete floor, and a single lightbulb dangling from a frayed wire overhead. The air was damp and metallic, like blood, rust and wet stone.

I tried to scream, to ask where I was, but my voice caught in my throat. That's when I noticed the tape over my mouth. Duct tape. My breathing quickened. Shallow. Panicked. I couldn't get enough air in, and every sharp inhale made the pain in my head worse.

'God. What the fuck is this place?'

I don't know how long I sat there. Minutes? Hours? Time didn't exist in that room. In that place. All I knew was that I was exhausted. Bone-deep, mind-numbing exhaustion. The kind that claws at your sanity until you're a shell of yourself. The fear kept me wired, but my body begged for relief.

-

And then, suddenly, the door clicked.

My head jerked up.

A man stepped inside.

Brown hair. A black, formal suit and tie. Calm. Controlled. My stomach dropped as recognition hit me like a slap.

It was Tyler.

I froze.

Held my breath.

And then he looked at me.

Cold, onyx eyes gazing back at me. Emotionless. Uncaring. Dark.

"Emily."

There it was. That deep, recognisable voice. Just like that, he had me in a vice.

He saw the fear in my eyes and smiled. A smile that gave me goosebumps, had no warmth behind it, and hurt to look at. Him coming here meant something terrible. It meant this wasn't a mistake. It confirmed my worst fears. That I was here for a reason. And I was about to find out.

I tried to lean back, to get away-but the chair was in the corner. There was nowhere to go. Stupid to even try.

He tilted his head, watching me closely.

"How are you feeling?"

He took a slow step forward, closing the distance between us, and crouched before me. His hands rested on my knees. I pressed back harder against the chair, eyes widening, heart hammering against my ribs.