The bare bulb never turned off. I lay on the thin mattress and watched it until my eyes burned. The plastic ties around my wrists had rubbed the skin raw. Every small movement sent a sharp sting up my arms and into my shoulders. Thirst returned first. Hunger followed, low and constant. The room stayed the same—rough concrete walls, a single locked metal door, and distant city sounds that never came close enough to matter.I tried to keep track of time by counting breaths and the occasional shift in the noise outside. Sometimes I heard the low rumble of a truck. Once I heard footsteps that passed and did not return. The building felt large and empty. Industrial. The air carried the faint smell of dust, oil, and old rain.Ella returned twice during what I judged to be morning. The first time she set another bottle of water on the floor without speaking. She watched me for a moment, as if checking that I was still conscious, then left. The second time she brought a phone and a folded m
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