Mia woke with her face pressed against cold metal. The van jerked forward, slamming her cheek against the floor. A groan escaped her lips, muffled by the dryness in her throat. Her wrists were tied behind her back with coarse rope, the fibers biting deep into her skin every time she shifted.
Her head throbbed, heavy and foggy, as if someone had stuffed her brain full of cotton. She tried to blink the blur from her eyes, but the dim light inside the van did little to help. Shapes sat across from her—two men, both covered in black hoodies. Their faces were hidden in the shadows, but she could feel their eyes on her.
"Where are you taking me?" she croaked, her voice hoarse.
No one answered. One of the men chuckled, low and dry, like the sound of gravel grinding under a boot.
The van swerved suddenly, and Mia's body rolled hard into the side panel. Her shoulder screamed in pain. She bit back another groan, panic clawing at her chest. The only thing outside was the blur of streetlights flickering past. She couldn't tell where they were, or even how long she had been in the van.
Her heart hammered so loud it drowned out the rumble of the engine. Every turn, every bump in the road, made her stomach churn. She didn't know where she was going, but every instinct screamed it wasn't anywhere safe.
When the van screeched to a halt, her breath caught in her throat. Doors slammed open. Hands—big, rough hands—grabbed her by the arms and yanked her out. Her knees buckled as her feet hit the ground, and the men didn't wait for her to steady herself. They dragged her forward like she weighed nothing. Gravel scraped her bare ankles. She tried to dig her heels into the ground, but her legs were too weak, and the ropes around her wrists burned with every pull.
The air changed. It smelled of damp earth and smoke. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, sharp and angry, then was silenced just as quick. Her chest tightened. She wanted to scream, but her voice got stuck in her throat.
A door creaked open, heavy and metallic. She was shoved inside.
Her body hit the floor hard, sending a jolt of pain up her side. The ground was wet and smelled of mildew, like an old basement that hadn't seen sunlight in years. The taste of rust filled her mouth, thick and metallic. Blood. It was blood.
Her breathing grew fast and uneven. She wanted to crawl backward, away from the hands that had tossed her there, but her wrists were still tied and her ankles bound. She twisted, writhing, but the ropes cut deeper until she thought they would slice her skin open.
A filthy rag was shoved between her teeth, gagging her before she could cry out. The sour taste made her gag, but the hand that held it in place was unyielding. Then a strip of rough fabric was pulled tight over her eyes, throwing her into suffocating darkness.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. The only sounds left were her own shallow gasps… and the others.
She froze.
There were voices in the room.
To her left, a girl whimpered softly, the sound of her crying shaking like she had no strength left. Farther away, another voice whispered in a language Mia couldn't quite catch. A prayer, maybe. Words repeated again and again, like a broken record of desperation.
Then it came.
A scream.
Sharp. Piercing. So full of terror that Mia's entire body stiffened. The sound echoed off the walls, bouncing in her skull until she thought it would split her in half.
Another scream followed, weaker but no less horrifying. Then came the rattling of chains, heavy footsteps, and the dull thud of something hitting flesh.
Mia's throat tightened. Her body shook so hard the blindfold dampened with sweat.
"What do they want from us?" she thought, panic slamming into her like waves.
A door creaked open again. The air shifted, cooler now. Boots pounded against the cement floor. Each step was measured, deliberate, as if the man wanted them all to hear him coming.
Then a voice spoke. Deep, rough, and steady. The kind of voice that didn't need to shout to demand obedience.
"Number twelve is ready."
Something heavy scraped against the ground, metal dragging over concrete. Someone nearby sobbed louder. Another girl's cries turned into frantic screams. Then the sound of her being dragged away—her nails clawing against the floor, her pleas muffled as the door slammed shut again.
Mia wanted to disappear. To melt into the ground and escape whatever was happening here. She tried to control her breathing, but each inhale came out jagged and quick.
A hand slammed down on the back of her neck, forcing her cheek against the wet floor. She flinched, a muffled whimper escaping her gag. The grip was brutal, fingers digging into her skin like claws.
"Don't move," the voice hissed in her ear.
Her entire body froze.
She heard the clatter of tools somewhere nearby. She couldn't see them, but the metallic sound alone filled her chest with dread. Her imagination ran wild—knives, pliers, chains. She didn't know what was real, and she wasn't sure she wanted to.
Her only thought: I have to get out. I can't stay here.
Another set of footsteps drew closer. The air grew colder, heavier, until it felt like someone had stolen all the oxygen from the room. The stench of sweat, smoke, and gasoline filled her nose, making her stomach twist.
A hand grabbed her arm roughly, yanking her upright. Her shoulder burned with pain as she staggered, her ankles still bound. She could barely keep her balance.
"You're next," the man growled.
She shook her head violently, muffled pleas spilling out through the gag. Tears soaked the blindfold. Her body writhed uselessly against his grip, but it was like fighting steel. His fingers only tightened, making her gasp in pain.
She was shoved backward. Her spine slammed against the wall. Before she could catch her breath, something cold pressed against her cheek. Metal.
Her body went stiff. Every muscle locked.
"You make a sound," he whispered, his breath hot and foul against her ear, "and it'll be worse."
Mia tried to hold still, but the sobs and cries around her made her tremble harder. A whimper escaped her throat despite her best effort. Then another.
Finally, she screamed.
It tore out of her against the gag, muffled but loud enough to echo in the space.
The man chuckled, low and mocking. His palm slammed into her ribs, the pain stealing the air from her lungs. He gripped her chin roughly, forcing her face up toward where his eyes must be.
"You're weak already," he said, almost pleased. "I like that."
Her legs gave out, sending her sliding down the wall. The ropes dug deeper into her skin as she trembled. She was dizzy now, her thoughts slipping in and out like broken glass in water.
Her last thought before her head dropped forward was sharp and hopeless:
No one is coming for me.