Peace opened her eyes, but darkness greeted her. Pitch black.
The last thing she remembered was standing in the kitchen, the warm scent of freshly baked cookies wafting through the air.
Felcher, her playful puppy, had been barking excitedly, chasing his tail in the corner. Now, there was nothing but silence—heavy and suffocating.
Her senses sharpened in the void. She felt the rough texture of the ropes biting into her skin, the cold chill of the floor beneath her. The air was damp and metallic, carrying the faint scent of rust and oil.
Then she heard it—a voice. Deep. Familiar.
Her heart stuttered.
Her mouth was taped shut.
Her eyes were taped shut.
Her body was bound tightly, every slight movement igniting sharp pains in her wrists and ankles. Her chest rose and fell in panicked gasps, her breathing loud against the eerie silence.
"Hello, darling."
Her heart stopped.
No. It couldn't be. It shouldn't be.
He wasn't supposed to find her. Not yet.
She had changed everything, her hair, her name, her clothes, her address. She'd even changed her eye color with contacts. She had erased every trace of her old life, yet here he was.
Please, don't let it be him.
"I missed you," the voice rasped darkly, each word dripping with menace.
She choked on a trapped sob, the sound muffled by the tape. Her mind raced, desperation clawing at her thoughts.She wanted to scream, to ask why he was here, how he had found her.
Ten years. Ten years of running, and it wasn't enough.
"You did a good job hiding from me, darling," he continued, his voice a dark melody that filled the room.
Her chest tightened as she struggled against the ropes. The pause that followed was excruciating, every second stretching like an eternity.
"Turning me over to the cops?" he said, his tone low and sharp. "Smooth move. Very clever."
She froze, her stomach twisting in fear.
"You'll have to send flowers, though," he added, his tone chillingly casual. "Those cops didn't make it."
Her mind screamed. Help. Oh my God, somebody help me!
She writhed against her restraints, the ropes biting into her skin.
"I bought an old train station," he continued, his voice polite, almost conversational. "I thought I'd test out the new trains. Hope you don't mind."
The words sent ice through her veins.
She screamed against the tape, her cries muffled and desperate. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, and she bit down in frustration, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth.
"Just stay very still, darling," he whispered. "It'll all be over soon."
Then she heard it, the distant rumble of a train. The sound grew louder, closer, echoing through her skull. The vibrations rattled the floor beneath her, and her head spun with terror.
No. No, no, no! Please, God, no!
Her life flashed before her eyes. She struggled harder, panic consuming her, but the ropes held firm.
Her breathing quickened, her vision blurred, and the sound of the train was deafening. Her terror overwhelmed her, and she passed out.
When she regained consciousness, her breaths were shallow, her body trembling. She blinked rapidly, her vision clearing, and then she saw them, his eyes.
Pitch Black, cold, and piercing, staring straight into her soul.
She was still tied to the tracks, her sweat-soaked body frozen in fear.
He knelt beside her, his rough palm caressing her face. The touch burned her skin, searing her with its familiarity. His face was partially concealed by a mask, but she could see the scar above his right eye, a brutal reminder of their past.
"Don't worry, love," he said softly. "I'd never hurt you."