Time had stopped meaning anything down here.
The girl no longer knew how many days had passed since the door had first closed behind her with that final, echoing sound. The basement existed outside of time-no windows, no natural light, which made it hard to tell where one day ended and the next began. Even her own body had begun to betray her sense of days. Sleep came in fragments, shallow and haunted, torn apart by nightmares or the sound of footsteps above them.
There was only hunger, pain, and fear. Food was scarce. Water tasted stale and metallic.
The cold was constant.
It seeped into her bones, crawled beneath her skin, settled into her muscles until even breathing felt heavy. The concrete floor never truly warmed, no matter how long she sat on the thin mattress. The air smelled of damp stone, rust, and old water, mixed with something metallic she tried not to think too hard about.
The wall was cold against the girl's back.
It pressed through the thin fabric of her shirt and into her skin, a constant, biting reminder that time still moved even if she wished it wouldn't. The concrete was uneven, rough in places, and she could feel the tiny ridges digging into her shoulder blades every time she shifted-even just a little-to keep the boy in her arms more comfortable.
"It's okay," she whispered, even when it wasn't.
"I'm here."
"They won't take you."
She said it every time.
She didn't know if she still believed it.
Hyunseong sat curled against her, his small body tucked between her legs, his back pressed to her chest. The girl's arms were wrapped around him instinctively, protectively, as if her body alone could form a shield strong enough to keep the world away. One hand rested on his chest, the other cradled the back of his head, fingers gently combing through his hair in slow, repetitive motions.
She barely realized she was doing it anymore.
It had become automatic.
Her gaze was unfocused, fixed on the opposite wall of the room. There was nothing special about it-just the same gray concrete, stained darker in some places, scratched in others. But her eyes lingered there, empty and distant, as if looking anywhere else would require more strength than she had left.
Her right eye throbbed dully.
The swelling had gone down a little since yesterday, but not enough. The skin around it was still red and bruised, purple and yellow bleeding into one another in ugly shades. Dried blood clung stubbornly to her temple, no matter how many times she had tried-carefully, quietly-to wipe it away with her sleeve.
Every blink hurt.
Every breath did too, if she paid too much attention to it.
Her body was exhausted in ways she had never known before.
Her muscles ached constantly, trembling even when she tried to stay still. Hunger gnawed at her relentlessly, dulling her thoughts, slowing her reactions.
But worse than the pain was the conditioning.
Her body had learned before her mind could stop it.
Any sudden movement made her flinch.
Any raised voice sent her heart racing.
Any touch-no matter how light-made her recoil, muscles locking, breath catching in her throat.
Even when Hyunseong leaned into her too suddenly, her body reacted before she could stop it. She hated herself for that. She hated that fear had carved itself so deeply into her nervous system that instinct no longer belonged to her.
