For the next two days, the walls seemed to close in, inch by inch, and despair began to creep into my bones. I had hoped that playing the part, feigning obedience, would give me some space—maybe a chance. But Jason didn't leave the apartment.
Still, he stayed, his presence shadowing me with its quiet, unnerving calm.
Most meals arrived at the door, delivered with barely a sound, a silent reminder that I was cut off from the outside world. Jason set up his laptop on the counter, working without a word. Though he gave me the freedom to roam the living room, even watch TV, it felt orchestrated. As if he wanted me to feel relaxed enough to drop my guard.
I tried to distract myself with the television, flipping through channels for anything that could pull me from this claustrophobic existence, but nothing caught my interest. Every laugh track, every news anchor's voice felt hollow, echoing against the surrounding silence.
There was no way out. Every door locked from the inside, every windo
