To Where It All Began ✔

3. THE ONE WHO SAVES HER

Amna slowly stirred awake, her body heavy and aching as if weighed down by an invisible force. Her eyelids fluttered open, squinting against the harsh afternoon rays streaming in from the car's window. The world around her felt hazy, a foggy blur as the sedative coursed through her veins. She blinked several times, trying to clear her vision, but the dizziness still clung to her like a suffocating blanket.

Her head throbbed, her temples pounding in rhythm with her racing heart. Where am I? The thought pierced through the haze in her mind, but her voice, barely a whisper, went unheard in the silence of the car.

The low hum of the engine rumbled beneath her as the car sped along the highway, and Amna, despite her groggy state, realized she had to remain still. If the driver-whoever he was-noticed that she was awake, things could take a much darker turn. Gathering her strength, she moved slowly, careful not to make a sound, shifting slightly to peer out of the window. She couldn't make out much, her vision still blurred, but through the dim outline of her surroundings, she could faintly discern the letters on a road sign: NH 48.

Fear gripped her chest. They were far from the city, heading into a stretch of road that led to the outskirts-isolated, desolate. Amna swallowed the lump in her throat, her mind whirling with possibilities. How long had she been unconscious? And how much farther did they plan to go?

Twenty minutes passed in a nerve-wracking silence, the car speeding steadily toward an unknown destination. Finally, it slowed to a halt, the tyres crunching over loose gravel as it pulled up near a decrepit old factory. The structure was worn down, abandoned, standing in a deserted area with no sign of life for miles around. It was the kind of place where screams would go unheard, a fact that sent a chilling realization down her spine.

Amna's pulse quickened, but she knew she had to remain calm. As the driver, masked and silent, came around to the back of the car, she closed her eyes again, forcing herself to remain as limp as possible. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a reminder of her helplessness, but she steeled herself, refusing to panic. She could feel his rough hands lift her, hoisting her over his shoulder as if she were a mere doll.

Her body jerked slightly as he walked, and through her half-closed eyelids, she could see the broken asphalt beneath his feet and the decaying walls of the factory looming in the distance. The air felt thick, the sun glaring down on them, but within the confines of the factory, the light barely penetrated the crumbling walls. He carried her deeper into the building, each step echoing in the hollow, oppressive silence of the place.

The man unceremoniously threw her to the ground, the impact jarring her bones. She winced, but quickly forced her body to remain still, feigning unconsciousness. She couldn't let him suspect she was awake. She had to wait for the right moment. As she lay there, she heard him grunting as he tied her hands and feet with rough rope, the knots biting into her skin.

He stood over her for a moment, as if assessing whether she was truly still out. Satisfied with his handiwork, he walked toward the main entrance, his heavy boots clanking against the ground. A metallic creak echoed through the air as he locked the door from the outside, sealing her inside the dark, dilapidated room.

For a few moments, there was nothing but silence. Amna's ears strained to catch any sound, her senses heightened by fear. Once she was sure the man was truly gone, she let out a shaky breath and slowly opened her eyes. The sedative hadn't fully worn off, her vision still blurred and her limbs weak, but she forced herself to sit up, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to pull her back down.

The room was dark and oppressive, the walls stained with age and neglect. Broken glass panes dotted the small windows, allowing only thin shafts of pale sunlight to filter through, casting eerie shadows on the ground. The air inside was stale, carrying with it the musty scent of decay and disuse. It was a far cry from the warm daylight outside-this place felt like a tomb.