EMERY
I've lost track of time in this place. It feels like an eternity has passed since I was taken here. The monotony is suffocating, punctuated only by the two meals a day the man brings, which I devour without question. It's as if I've been conditioned to accept this routine, to survive by obeying the rules they've set.
Twice daily, the man arrives, and I obediently follow his lead to the bathroom, hands cuffed. It's in these moments that I've managed to glean some information about my surroundings. As I step into the bathroom, I use the precious minutes to scan my surroundings. The walls, the fixtures—anything that might give me a clue about where I'm being held.
There's a door off to the side that I haven't seen beyond yet. It taunts me with its potential, a portal to some unknown part of this place. Is it an exit, an entrance, or something altogether different? I can't be sure, but a spark of curiosity ignites a glimmer of hope.
