The room was suffocating, the air thick with something too sterile, too clean. It pressed against her chest, cold and oppressive. The silence was its own weight, wrapping her in a stillness that gnawed at her mind, threatening to drag her under.
Zoya struggled against the haze clouding her senses, her limbs heavy as if they belonged to someone else. Her breathing came shallow and ragged, each inhalation a painful effort to break through the fog. She tried to move, to reach out, but everything seemed distant—out of her grasp, as if she were submerged in water, drowning without a sound.
Something wasn't right. The room around her, the disorienting stillness, the whispers at the edges of her consciousness—it all felt wrong. She couldn't pinpoint it, but the sense of something lurking, just beyond her vision, was undeniable. She wasn't alone.
A chill ran through her, curling around her spine like a snake, cold and slithering. Then, there it was—the faintest rustle from the far corner. Her pulse quickened, a low hum of fear vibrating under her skin. Her eyes darted across the room, searching for the source of the disturbance. But the shadows, they seemed to shift, stretching out of the corner like limbs of something darker than the room itself.
A presence. Silent. Watching.
Her breath hitched.
"You're awake."
The voice was a whisper, low and sharp, slithering into her ears like a secret. It wrapped around her thoughts, leaving no room for anything else. Zoya's heart slammed against her ribs, each beat like thunder in the silence.
She didn't speak, too paralyzed by the coldness in his tone. She didn't even know if she could form words. Could she trust them? Could she trust him?
There was a shift in the shadows. A figure emerged, tall and thin, but not quite fully there. He was more an outline than a man, a distortion of the darkness that bent unnaturally around him. His eyes—cold, calculating—held her in place, unblinking. The longer she stared, the less he felt like a person, the more he seemed like a part of the room itself, something that didn't belong but couldn't leave.
"What do you want?" Her voice came out in a strangled breath, cracked and weak, a far cry from what she wanted to project. She wanted to scream, demand answers, but fear kept her from even the simplest defiance.
He didn't move, but his gaze deepened.
"I could ask you the same."
Zoya stiffened, an unease crawling up her spine. The words were like ice, cutting through her thoughts with unsettling ease. His voice—so calm, so certain—carried a weight that crushed her, making her wonder if there was any space in the world for her to exist outside of him.
"I don't know why I'm here," she whispered, the words slipping from her lips before she could stop them.
The figure leaned in, his silhouette merging with the shadows. His eyes flashed, predatory, calculating, as if he already knew the answer. His voice came again, quieter this time.
"Don't you?"
The words lodged themselves into her chest like shards of glass. She didn't know. How could she know? Her mind was a fog, everything a blur of half-memories, jagged flashes of moments she couldn't place. But that question—it gnawed at her, clawing at something deep within.
Her thoughts splintered, and the images came rushing back—fragments of a car. Speeding down a road she didn't remember, the wind ripping through her hair, the cliff edge—
The ground slipping away beneath her. A free fall.
She shook her head, trying to force the memory to stay at bay.
"I remember falling," she managed, her voice trembling as the weight of the memory threatened to consume her. "I remember the car. But nothing after."
His expression didn't change, though something flickered in his eyes. A slight shift, like a predator sizing up its prey. He leaned forward just enough to make her heart stutter, her body going rigid with fear.
"So you remember the descent," he said softly, "but not the landing?"
She felt a jolt of panic. "What does that mean?"
His gaze darkened, the shadow around him thickening, pressing in.
"It means you're asking the wrong questions."
Zoya felt her chest tighten, her breath hitching as her heart began to race. The room seemed to close in, the walls pressing in on her, and she hated it. Hated the uncertainty of it.
"Then what should I be asking?" Her voice was barely a whisper, a plea wrapped in defiance.
There was a flicker in the darkness, a shift in the air, and for a moment, she thought she heard him smile, though his face never moved.
"Who put you here?"
The words dropped like a stone, heavy, cold, sinking deep into her skin. Zoya's stomach twisted, a sickening, unfamiliar sensation crawling under her ribs.
"Did… did someone?" she choked out, her voice faltering. She didn't want to believe it. Couldn't.
The man didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his figure looming over her. Zoya stiffened, every instinct telling her to back away, but her body refused to obey.
"You think places like this simply collect the broken?" His voice had dropped to a whisper, and it felt as though the very air around her was growing denser, thicker. "No. Someone made a choice."
Zoya's breath caught in her throat. The words echoed in her mind, a harsh realization settling in her bones.
Her fists clenched at her sides, nails biting into her skin, the only thing keeping her grounded in this moment. "Then tell me."
His gaze was cold, unyielding. "I will."
Zoya's heart raced, her breath shallow, anxiety twisting in her chest. She could feel the walls closing in, the silence thickening, the shadows at the edges of her vision shifting in response to his presence.
"But…" she prompted, barely daring to speak.
He smiled, the expression thin and cruel, but it was enough.
"Truth is never free."
Her heart stuttered. Her throat tightened. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, but she needed to know.
"What do you want from me?" Her voice was barely a whisper, the words rasping as they left her lips.
The man didn't answer immediately, his silence stretched tight between them like a bowstring, ready to snap. Then, slowly, he leaned in closer, his voice a dark hum.
"I will get you out of here."
Zoya froze. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, and her breath caught. The words hung in the air, shocking and impossible.
"Why?" she croaked, her voice cracking under the weight of her confusion.
"That is the wrong question," he replied, his tone unbothered, distant.
Her chest ached with the effort to breathe, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts.
"Then what's the right one?"
His answer came in a low, dark whisper, a voice that felt like it came from the depths of her own nightmares.
"What will you do for it?"
Zoya flinched as if the words had struck her physically. The room spun, her mind going blank as she tried to wrap her thoughts around the question. It felt like a choice, a test, something she had no answer for.
"What do you mean?"
He tilted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.
"You lost everything," he said, his voice soft but deadly. "And I am offering a way to take something back."
The words crashed into her, and for the first time, Zoya didn't feel like she had control. She was on the edge of something dark, and she didn't know if she was ready to fall.
"How?" she whispered, barely able to ask.
His smile was slow, cruel.
"Revenge."
The word sliced through her, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake. She didn't know how to process it, how to understand it, but the weight of it pressed into her like a bruise that had yet to form.
The man's voice broke the silence, colder now, commanding.
"I will give you ten truths about your life. But you must earn them."
Zoya's mind reeled, her body trembling as she processed his words.
"How?" she asked, voice shaking.
"By doing what must be done," he replied, his eyes never leaving hers.
Her chest tightened, her body feeling heavier by the second. The question hung in the air, unanswered, as she struggled to comprehend the depths of what had been offered—and the cost.
"Do you want to know why you're here?" he asked.
Zoya swallowed hard, trying to push past the numbness in her limbs.
"Yes," she whispered.
The man's smile deepened, and she felt something shift inside her.
"Then let's begin."