All Chapters of Twisted Vines: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

I hung suspended upside down from my makeshift swing, crafted from long, thick vines. Hooks had mysteriously appeared in the walls the month before, adding an unexpected thrill to my sanctuary by making my swing possible. My hair cascaded down around me, wild and free, while the vines playfully twirled a few of my loose strands, creating a whimsical dance of foliage and locks. With a soft sigh of boredom, I kept my gaze fixed on the door, hoping for someone to wander by and lighten my day.Before long, my wish was granted. The old man who occasionally stopped by shuffled toward the glass door, his gait steady. Trailing closely behind was his ever-present shadow, a figure whose hollow eyes seemed not to see but somehow perceive everything around him. I couldn't help but grimace at his presence; something was unsettling about him. The tall man with broad shoulders exuded an air of silent vigilance and latent danger. His sharp features were accentuated by a carefully composed, emotionles

The red bucket was brimming perilously close to the top, a noxious odor wafting from it with an unsettling stench. A guard bearing the number ‘57’ practically threw it back in while other guards dragged the trio back from wherever they came from. I had foolishly made the mistake of asking the old man about the peculiar absence of that familiar figure who usually trailed behind him when he appeared the next day. His eyes had crinkled at the corners, his mouth tightening in a way that suggested unsaid words were hanging in the air. But he chose silence. I crouched on the cold floor farthest from the bucket, leaning against the smooth surface of the glass while I traced delicate, imaginary flowers in the condensation that clung to it. I have been doing so for a while now. The other side remained untouched; the fog blurred everything beyond the glass, shrouding it in an opaque mystery. A sharp, unexpected tapping resonated against the glass by the door. Heart racing, I darted to the ba

Boredom had teeth. It chewed at my thoughts like a rat trapped in the walls, scraping and gnawing at the edges of everything. My vines dragged sluggishly across the floor, idly brushing the glass. The usual fog was slow to cling this time, the humidity dipping lower than normal. I clicked my tongue in annoyance, tapping out a rhythm against the wall. No reflection to tease or trail or toy with. Just stillness.To keep my hands from twitching, I started shredding one of the tall grasses that grew along the wall. It had been a gift, once. The roots curled against the base of the chamber, stubborn and winding. I yanked a few clean blades free and began knotting and weaving mindlessly. Over. Under. Twist. Pull tight. It wasn't much at first. Just something to keep the pacing in my head steady. It started to take a shape—a thin bracelet of green and gold, knotted and looped. I plucked a tiny flower from the corner and pressed it into one of the braids, tucking the stem into place with care

I didn't remember reaching into my pocket. It just happened—somewhere between a guard's grunted, "Boss wants you," and the fourth security checkpoint. My fingers slipped past the inner lining of my pants, brushing against something soft. Woven. Fibrous.For a beat, I stopped walking. I pulled my hand halfway out, caught sight of soft green loops peeking between my fingers, and shoved it back down deep. I didn't want to look at it. I didn't want to feel it. Yet, I kept my hand there, thumb running slow circles over grassy knots as I continued down the corridor. The motion was mindless. Automatic. The hallway twisted in familiar turns—past glass enclosures, stationed guards, and surveillance hums. The air smelled like antiseptic and power. The thing in my pocket grounded me in a way I didn't like. It made me remember that two hundred and eighty-seven had reached out. Without words. Without permission. Quiet. Careful. I'd been oblivious. I should have thrown it out for both of our benef

Silence returned. Not the comforting kind. The kind that presses against your chest like a stone slab. The kind that makes you feel like you're being buried alive. I stood there, barefoot on the damp ground, staring at the place where they'd just been. My reflection looked back—faint, warped—a girl blurred by condensation. A girl with no name. No rights. No price too high.I turned slowly and walked to the far corner of the enclosure, the soft slap of my steps the only sound. My vines followed me without a word. Even they seemed quieter now. I sat down. Not because I was tired—but because I needed the stillness to think.They had stood right in front of me, men who controlled everything, and discussed me like I was an object. Like I wasn't listening. Like, I couldn't understand.Obedient."Not a person," I whispered to no one. It didn't echo, but I liked the way it sat in the air. Sharp. Final. Mocking. My fists curled against my knees. They didn't care that I spoke. I looked around