A NIGHTMARE
Anna's eyes fluttered open, only to meet darkness. A thick, suffocating blackness that pressed against her like a living thing. Her limbs refused to move. Panic surged through her chest as she realized she was bound—hands and feet immobilized.
"Where am I?" she whispered, her voice cracking, fragile in the empty space.
Silence answered her.
She strained against the ropes, but they bit into her skin. The bindings were tight, expertly done, leaving her trapped and helpless. The cold floor pressed against her back, and the air smelled of dust, mildew, and something metallic—blood, perhaps.
Images of that night struck her like lightning. She had left her father's estate under duress, carrying the mysterious letter:
"Meet me at the old warehouse. Midnight. – J"
She had been cautious, meticulous even, recording the conversation she had with Mr. J on her phone—proof she hoped would help the police if things went wrong. But nothing could have prepared her for what came next.
A shadow had leapt from the alleyway, strong hands grabbing her, dragging her into a waiting van. Her struggles were futile. She had screamed, kicked, tried to bite—anything to get free—but they overpowered her. And then… darkness.
Now, lying in this unfamiliar room, Anna's chest tightened with every memory of terror. But she wasn't alone.
Other girls were there. All bound. All gagged. Some sobbed quietly. Some just stared blankly, resigned.
One girl, small and fragile with long brown hair and striking green eyes, caught Anna's gaze.
"Hi," the girl whispered, voice barely audible.
Anna managed a weak smile. "Hi."
"My name's Sarah," the girl said. "I was taken from a bus stop… a week ago."
Anna nodded, trying to focus. "I'm Anna… I—I'm not sure how long I'll be here."
Days bled into nights. The two girls clung to each other's presence like a lifeline. They whispered about home, family, and stolen lives. Anna spoke of her father, Chief Akpos, his wealth, his influence, the dangers she had inadvertently stumbled into. Sarah listened, wide-eyed, afraid but comforted.
Yet despite their friendship, despair shadowed Anna's every thought. Her body ached from beatings. Every bruise, every scar, every mark told a story of powerlessness.
She remembered the first blow vividly: her teeth had clenched in pain, vision blurring, tears spilling over. She had thought she might die that night, but she survived—and survival became a daily ritual, a testament to stubborn hope.
Even so, hope was fleeting. Weeks passed. Food was meager, cold, and sometimes barely edible. The captors' faces were shadowed, their intentions unreadable. Every knock on the door, every creak of the floor sent Anna's heart into her throat.
Then, one evening, there were footsteps outside her cell. Heavy, deliberate. Her stomach twisted with fear.
The door creaked open. A woman stepped inside, tall, wrapped in a long, dark coat. Her presence commanded attention.
"Anna," the woman said, voice low, husky. "You're coming with me."
Anna's heart skipped. Who was this woman? Friend or foe?
Before she could answer, the woman turned, beckoning.
"Go," Sarah whispered urgently. "See where she takes you. Don't hesitate."
Anna nodded, swallowing fear like bitter medicine. She followed, the chains of fear rattling with each step.
The warehouse corridors were cold and dusty, echoing every footstep. Shadows twisted across the walls, playing tricks on her mind. She remembered why she had come that night—Mr. J had threatened her father, promising help for the Akpos project if she met him. Refusal meant death for her family.
She had been clever, recording the conversation. Smart—but it didn't matter. Somehow, Mr. J had known. The threat escalated: hand over the recording and survive, or refuse and watch her family burn.
Her stomach churned. Her mind raced. Who was Mr. J? What did he want with her? And why keep her alive now?
The woman stopped in front of a door. She turned to Anna.
"This is where you'll stay," she said, her voice firm yet not cruel.
Anna's eyes widened as the door creaked open. Inside, a small, dimly lit room awaited her. Dust motes floated in the weak light. And then her gaze fell on something that made her stomach flip with both hope and dread—a small window high on the wall.
A way out?
Or a trap.
Days passed, blending into nights. Each attempt to escape was met with brutality. Her body ached in ways she hadn't known possible. Screams tore from her throat, but her captors were relentless, punishing defiance with precision.
One day, she awoke to agony. Her body felt broken, every muscle screaming. Standing over her was the woman in the coat. Anger and disappointment wove together in her gaze.
"You shouldn't have tried to escape," she said, calm, measured, yet cutting like a knife. "Now… you'll suffer the consequences."
Anna tried to speak but could barely whisper.
The woman nodded, turning away. "You'll learn to obey. We'll make sure of it."
Alone again, Anna felt despair gnawing at her resolve. She realized she had underestimated her captors. They were more ruthless, more calculated, than she could have imagined.
And yet, amidst the pain and hopelessness, the fire inside her refused to die.
She stared at the window high above, imagining herself climbing, leaping, surviving.
She had to believe—somewhere out there, Detective Jameson was searching for her. Somewhere, hope still existed.
And she would fight.
No matter the cost.
No matter the nightmare.