The cold hit me first.
It crept through the thin mattress beneath me, slicing through my skin and settling into my bones. I stirred weakly, my body slow to obey, and forced my heavy eyes open.
The room was small, barely larger than a closet, bathed in a sickly yellow light that buzzed from a single overhead bulb. The walls were bare, stained, the air stale.
A masked man sat silently in a chair by the door, his face obscured by a smooth, featureless mask. He didn't move. Just watched. Waiting.
I pushed myself up slightly, my hands trembling under my weight. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to scream—but fear had already wrapped its fingers around my throat.
"Where... where am I?" I rasped, my voice so small it barely broke the stillness.
No answer. Only the faint creak of the chair as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, head tilted—like he was studying me. Waiting for something.
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away. I wouldn't cry. Not yet.
"You shouldn't have tried to run," he said finally, his voice low and distorted through the mask. Cold. Measured.
My heart stuttered painfully. Jason. My mind screamed for him. But he was gone. He had fled.
The masked man stood slowly, the movement deliberate. He crossed the room in three slow strides, stopping just beside the bed.
"You're going to answer some questions," he continued, tone eerily calm. "You're going to tell me everything you know."
I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, willing myself not to show fear. When I opened them again, he was still there. Still watching.
"You try to scream," he said, voice dipping lower, "and you'll find no one's coming for you. No one can hear you here."
I stayed silent. My heart thundered painfully against my ribs.
For a moment, he simply stood there, like he was weighing my silence, deciding if it was worth the effort.
Then his voice turned cold—deadly.
"You'll cooperate," he said, each word sharp and deliberate, "or you'll die here."
The words landed like a blow.
He straightened, clearly unimpressed by my lack of response. With a final glance at me, he turned and walked to the door. The hinges groaned softly as he pulled it open. He stepped out without another word.
The door slammed shut behind him with a heavy clang, and the metallic click of
a lock echoed through the tiny room.