Alya
It's been five hours, forty-three minutes, and seventeen seconds since he left me in this room. Eighteen. Nineteen. The silence is broken only by the ticking in my head, I don't know if it's the clock or my own nerves pretending there's one. A woman, probably staff, came in a few minutes after he left. She didn't say anything. Just crouched down, quietly sweeping the broken pieces of the vase I knocked over. I wanted to ask her something. Anything. But she only glanced at me like I was a stain on the floor she wasn't paid enough to scrub. Then she left. Lock clicked. Silence again.
Yes, I've looked for ways out. The window's sealed shut. Not painted over or locked. Sealed. Like someone wanted it to be more than just closed. The walls don't echo, but I still tapped on them anyway. Just in case. The door is heavy. No handle on my side. Only a thin line of light underneath it, where shadows sometimes pause, and I can almost believe someone's standing on the other side.
