I forced myself into the forest, my trainers slipping on the damp, uneven ground. The sharp scent of wet earth mingled with the bitter tang of decaying leaves, clinging heavily to the air. Each step seemed to amplify the silence, my breaths uneven and harsh. Shadows shifted at the edges of my vision, the gnarled trees twisting into jagged, unnatural shapes.

The road behind me vanished quickly, swallowed by dense, unyielding growth. The trees loomed, their thick trunks and skeletal branches stretching overhead, choking what little light remained. The air grew colder, sharper, sending a shiver through me. Every instinct screamed at me to stop, to turn back—but I couldn't. Amber needed me.

My foot caught on a root, and I stumbled forward, catching myself against a tree. The bark scraped against my palms as I froze, straining to hear past the relentless hammering of my heart. It felt as though my fear had muted everything else. My ears strained for sound, but the suffocating quiet pressed down, smothering even the rustle of leaves.

The faint light filtering through the canopy dimmed further, plunging the forest into murky shadows. Shapes twisted at the edges of my vision, grotesque and fleeting. My breath hitched at a flicker of movement between the trees, but it was only a bird, wings slicing the air as it burst upward. The sudden sound jolted through me, and I paused, gripping a low-hanging branch to steady myself.

Then I saw it.

A bright orange shopping bag dangled from a low branch ahead, swaying slightly, out of place and menacing. My mouth went dry, but I forced myself forward, my body tense. The stolen phone vibrated faintly against my stomach, tucked securely in the waistband of my underwear. I prayed whoever was watching couldn't hear it.

The bag creaked faintly in the breeze, its presence deliberate and wrong.

Beneath it, perched on a tree stump, was a transparent plastic bag. I stopped, my breath catching in my throat. Inside, I could make out the unmistakable shapes of cable ties and a black blindfold.

The world seemed to close in around me, the air colder with every passing second. My chest tightened painfully, my pulse thundering in my ears as nausea clawed at my stomach. I took a hesitant step forward, my legs trembling under the weight of dread.

Then my phone buzzed again.

The sharp noise shattered the silence, making me flinch. My hand darted to my pocket, fumbling as I unlocked the screen. A new message appeared, stark and unforgiving:

Put your phone on airplane mode. Throw it away. Then put the blindfold on.

I stared at the words, the edges of the screen digging into my trembling fingers. Panic surged, constricting my chest. My mind screamed to stop, to turn back—but Amber's face forced its way into my thoughts, silencing the urge. There was no choice. No escape.

I glanced over my shoulder, the forest swallowing the road behind me. My breath caught as a prickling sensation crept up my neck—the unmistakable feeling of being watched.

The blindfold and cable ties sat waiting on the stump, silent and sinister. I swallowed hard, bile rising in my throat as I tapped into my phone's settings. With a single motion, I switched to airplane mode, severing my last fragile connection to the outside world. My fingers lingered on the device before I hurled it into the trees. The faint rustle of its landing disappeared into the dense undergrowth.

My hands hovered over the blindfold, trembling so violently I struggled to grip it. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the stillness pressing down on me like a weight. Every faint rustle, every creak of a branch, sent fresh waves of dread through my body. Slowly, I lifted the blindfold to my face, the coarse fabric brushing against my skin.

The moment it tightened over my eyes, the world around me transformed. Sound sharpened to a razor's edge—every snap of a twig, every whisper of the wind cut through the air with startling clarity. The damp earth rose around me, the smell thick and suffocating. My breaths came shallow and quick, my pulse thundering in my ears.

A twig snapped nearby, the noise deliberate and close.

Then, a faint rustle. Footsteps. My throat tightened as the sound drew closer. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, a primal fear clawing at me. Someone was here. I could feel it—the air shifting with their presence.

A hand brushed my face, slow and deliberate. I flinched, my body locking in place as the touch lingered, cold and foreign.

"Good girl," the voice murmured, muffled and warped, twisting unnaturally as though filtered through layers of fabric. It carried a sharp, saccharine sweetness that made bile rise in my throat. The distortion was wrong, unreal—but it tugged at something deep in my memory, just out of reach. Familiar, yet unplaceable.

A rustle followed—the faint sound of the plastic bag being moved. My pulse quickened as a large hand closed around my wrist, making me jump. The grip was unsettling—strong, but not rough, as if it were meant to reassure me. It didn't. I trembled uncontrollably.

"Shh," the voice came again, warped and too close. "I'm not going to hurt you, Samantha."

I froze as the cable tie slid around my wrists, the smooth plastic tightening with a sharp zip. The pressure bit into my skin, locking my hands together with brutal finality.

"You'll see," the voice continued, the distortion softening into something hauntingly intimate.

The sound enveloped me, invasive and suffocating, as though the forest itself was amplifying it. The familiarity gnawed at the edges of my mind, twisting into dread. My breaths came in shallow bursts, my skin crawling as his grip lingered—too gentle, too wrong.

He tugged me along by the middle of the cable tie, the thin plastic digging into my skin as I stumbled blindly behind him. My feet scraped against the uneven forest floor, catching on roots and stones. Each step felt unsteady, my body teetering as he pulled me forward with unrelenting force.

The world blurred into a mess of muffled sounds and disorienting movement. I had no sense of direction, no idea where we were heading. The air grew thicker, cooler, laced with the faint tang of damp earth and rotting leaves. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out everything else.

The ground shifted beneath my feet. I felt it first in the tilt of my body—the subtle drop of momentum as we started descending. A hill. The incline was steep, my trainers skidding against the slippery earth. I lost my footing, pitching forward with a sharp gasp.

He caught me, his grip firm but unsettlingly careful, pulling me upright before I could hit the ground. My face was too close to his now—far too close. His breath, muffled and distorted like his voice, brushed against my ear. The scent of him—sharp, metallic, and faintly chemical—made my stomach twist.

"You're fine," the muffled voice murmured, oddly familiar but I just couldn't place it, its saccharine tone tinged with something possessive. He held me close for a moment longer than necessary, then released me abruptly, his hand guiding me downward again.

"Down," he commanded again, his voice clipped and muffled, as though filtered through fabric or a mask. His hand pressed firmly against my shoulder, forcing me lower. My legs trembled as I crouched, the bark of a tree scraping my calf. My bound wrists brushed the damp ground, the overpowering scent of moss and wet earth closing in around me.

My breaths came fast and shallow, a sharp wheeze escaping as panic gripped my chest. The blindfold intensified everything—the darkness seemed alive, tightening around me. He said nothing, but his hand returned to my wrist, yanking me forward.

The ground beneath my feet changed abruptly. The crunch of twigs and leaves gave way to something smooth and hard. Stone? I stumbled, the slick surface threatening to send me sprawling, but his grip steadied me with unsettling precision. The air shifted too—cooler, heavier, with a metallic tang that prickled at my nose.

Steps. I was being led down steps.

The uneven descent amplified the faint scuffle of my trainers against the stone. The earthy smell deepened, mingling with something metallic and sour that turned my stomach. Each step pulled me further into the unknown, the air colder with every stride.

I tried to control my breathing, to quiet the shaky wheeze that betrayed my fear, but it was futile. My mind raced with possibilities, each darker than the last. My pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out every other sound as he led me deeper into whatever hell awaited below.

The texture beneath my feet shifted again. The uneven stone became slick and smooth. I froze, the blindfold still cutting off my sight, but I could feel the air change—dense, cool, and laced with decay. The enclosed space pressed in on me, the scent of damp rock suffocating.

"Stop," he commanded, his voice sharp and close. The pressure of his hand left my arm, and I stood motionless, my body shivering as silence pressed in. My heart thundered, my fingers aching where the cable ties bit into my skin.

The blindfold loosened and fell away. I blinked rapidly, my vision swimming as faint light filtered in from above, illuminating the space. Slowly, the surroundings came into focus—a hollowed-out cave with jagged, damp walls. The ceiling curved like a stone tomb, flecked with moss that clung to its edges. The air smelled ancient and wrong, as though the space had been sealed off for years.

I turned, and my breath hitched.

He stood tall, his shoulders broad beneath the dark hood that cloaked him. His figure was imposing, but now I understood why his face had always been a mystery. A fencing mask obscured it, the mesh reflecting faint light like the eyes of a predator. My stomach churned as his head tilted slightly, the movement deliberate, as though he savoured my fear.

I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze away from him. Then I saw her.

Amber.

She was slumped in the far corner, her body crumpled and fragile, her back pressed against the jagged rock. Her matted hair clung to her face in greasy strands, streaked with grime and sweat. Her jeans were dark and damp, the stains unmistakable. My chest tightened as my eyes travelled over her, taking in every haunting detail. Her hands rested limply at her sides, filth caked beneath her nails, her fingers twitching faintly as though she were caught in a distant dream.

She wasn't tied up, but her movements—or lack of them—told me everything. Her head lolled to the side, the sharp jut of her cheekbone catching the faint light. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, the effort of each one barely noticeable. Her pupils were blown wide, her half-lidded eyes barely registering my presence.

"Amber," I whispered, the word breaking on my lips. My legs buckled, and I sank to my knees, the cold stone biting into my skin. I crawled toward her, my bound hands trembling as they scraped against the rough ground. My stomach churned, nausea clawing at me as I moved closer.

"Amber, it's me," I said, my voice rising in desperation. "It's Sam. I'm here."

She didn't respond. Her head rolled weakly as I shook her shoulder, her skin pale and slick with sweat. Her lips were dry and cracked, barely parting as her shallow breaths rasped out. The air felt heavy, thick with the sour stench of her condition.

"Amber," I pleaded, gripping her arms gently. "Come on, you have to wake up."

Her head lolled again, her body sagging against the wall. Panic surged as I noticed the track marks on her arm, faint bruises blooming around the punctures. My chest felt like it was collapsing, each shallow breath a struggle as my mind raced.

A noise behind me snapped me out of my thoughts—a faint scrape of a boot against the stone.

"She's fine," the muffled voice rasped, soft and deliberate, his tone almost bored.

I froze, my pulse roaring in my ears. Slowly, I turned to face him. He stood motionless, his broad frame still cloaked in shadows, the mesh of his mask reflecting the faint light.

"I said She's fine," he repeated, his voice more commanding now. He tilted his head slightly as if  his head tilting slightly, the movement deliberate and unnervingly calm. 

"She doesn't matter anymore, Sam. It's just us now," he said, his voice calm and deliberate as his gloved hands rose to lift the mask.