The Neighbor

Chapter 67

Day One

The first thing you notice when you wake is the cold. It creeps into your bones, unrelenting, numbing your fingers and toes. Your head throbs with a dull, persistent ache, and when you try to move, you're met with resistance thick ropes biting into your skin, holding you in place. Panic flares immediately, and you pull at the bindings, but they only tighten with every movement, the friction burning against your wrists.

It all rushes back Madison, her twisted smile, the sting of betrayal in her voice. She had planned this, and now you were her prisoner.

The room around you is dark, but you can make out the cold, concrete walls. No windows. No way to gauge the time. It could be day, it could be night. Your mouth is dry, your throat raw as if you've been screaming, though you don't remember doing so. The rope digs into your skin as you shift, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it's useless. The chair beneath you is hard and unyielding, and the tension in the ropes feels like it's only increasing.

Your thoughts immediately go to Wanda. She has to be looking for me. She'll find me, you tell yourself. She's unstoppable. But the longer the silence stretches, the more the doubt creeps in. Madison had been one step ahead of you, of everyone, this whole time. What if...what if she's too far ahead? What if Wanda doesn't find you in time?

You shake the thought from your mind, trying to stay focused, trying not to let fear take over. But it's hard. The cold, the isolation it starts to eat away at you.

The door creaks open, breaking the heavy silence, and a single set of footsteps echoes through the room. Your heart races, and your head snaps up, eyes blinking against the harsh fluorescent light that spills in from the hallway. A figure emerges from the shadows.

Madison.

She strolls in, casual, as if this is nothing more than a normal day. She's changed clothes now in something sharp and tailored, her heels clicking on the floor with every step. She moves like she owns the space, like she's completely in control. And, in a way, she is. She pauses a few feet in front of you, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she looks you over, taking in your condition with a twisted sense of pride.

"Comfortable?" she asks, her voice sweet, but it's laced with venom. She doesn't wait for you to answer she doesn't care. She's enjoying this too much, seeing you like this, bound and helpless.

You clench your jaw, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response. Every fiber of your being screams to lash out, but all you can do is sit there, bound, with the ropes digging into your skin. You won't give her what she wants the fear, the desperation, the helpless pleading. Not yet.

Madison's smile fades slightly, her eyes narrowing as she realizes you're not going to play along. She doesn't like being ignored. Not one bit. Her amusement shifts, and her lips curl into a cold, menacing smirk as she takes another step closer, the sharp click of her heels echoing off the cold, concrete walls.

"Oh, silent treatment, is it?" she says, her voice low and dangerous now. "I was hoping you'd have a bit more spirit. It's no fun if you don't play along."

She lets the silence hang for a moment, watching you intently, waiting for any reaction. But you don't give her one. You keep your gaze steady, even though your heart races and your skin crawls at the thought of what she might do next.

Madison tilts her head, pretending to think, before an idea seems to light up her face, her smirk widening into something far more sinister. "Well then," she drawls, "if you're not in a chatty mood... maybe Wanda would like to say good morning."

Your stomach drops, and you feel your pulse quicken as Madison pulls her phone from her pocket, already opening the camera app. Her fingers dance across the screen with casual cruelty, setting up a video as if it's just another day just another game for her.