Slowly, the fog starts to lift from my mind, and a disgusting headache greets me. As my thoughts begin to clear, the first thing that comes back to me is my sense of smell. The air is damp and musty, with a metallic scent coating the air, making my nose wrinkle in discomfort. Next, my hearing returns. Small whispers echo around me, voices I can assume to be all female. The slow, agonizingly repetitive drip of water fills the silence, accompanied by the shuffling of fabric and feet against the floor. Pebbles roll against hard stone, adding to the eerie atmosphere.

Finally, I can move my body. My eyes peel open, but dark shadows block my vision. Blinking rapidly, I force my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. A small flicker of light comes from my left, illuminating the small space with deep shadows. Pushing myself into a sitting position, I come face to face with three girls.

Looking around, I spot five more girls, all huddled together and looking at me. Is this where the missing girls went? Rubbing my head, I push through the grogginess, forcing myself to my feet. Swaying a little, I plant my feet firmly on the ground, widening my stance to steady myself. Moving my hands to brush the loose hair from my face, I stop. Looking down, I see silver glimmers in the dim light—a thin chain holding my hands together, handcuffs.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The room spins slightly, and I grip the chain between my wrists, feeling the cold metal bite into my skin.

"They have never handcuffed anyone before," a voice says. I look around for the person who spoke. A girl, around my age, steps out of the shadows into the dim light.

"What do you mean by that? Where am I?" My voice is gruff and scratchy from disuse, shocking me. How long have I been out?

Coughing, I watch her as she walks over to me. Her arms are bare, scratched, and dirty, as are her face and clothes. "Look around. None of us are cuffed. Why would they cuff you?"

Looking around, I see she is right—no other girl is cuffed. "I don't know why I am cuffed, but what I do want to know is why I am here and where here is."

The girl crosses her arms, leaning against the bars that lock us in. Her eyes are weary but determined.

"We're here to be sold," a small voice whispers, just loud enough to be heard. The words send a chill down my spine, the reality of the situation sinking in. My heart races, and a sense of dread fills the air.

Looking for the girl who spoke I stop on a young girl maybe around fifteen or sixteen hidden in a corner watching me from the shadows. "Sold for what?"

She looks up at me, her eyes sad and empty. Her clothes are torn and muddy, and scratches line her arms, signs of a struggle. "For sex, we are sold to become someone's sex slave." She leans to her side, dropping her eyes to the ground, signaling she is done talking.

Looking at the other girls, I notice that they are all in a similar condition to the young one in the corner. The youngest seems to be around fourteen, while the oldest appears to be the other girl and me. A sex slave, I was abducted to be a sex slave. "Why did they cuff you?" the girl asks again, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.

"I don't know," I reply, my voice tinged with confusion.

She raises an eyebrow, her posture tense. "What were you going into for a career?"

"I was planning to be a child abuse consultant. Why do you ask?" I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

She grumbles, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "That doesn't make sense. Why would they cuff you for that?"

Shrugging, the chains connecting my wrists clink together, the sound echoing in the dim space. "Beats me. I woke up like this, so..."

She sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. "What about your parents? What do they do?"

"My dad is a cop, and my mom is a stylist," I say, feeling a knot of unease tighten in my stomach.

"How cliché," a girl mumbles from the shadows, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She shifts uncomfortably, her eyes darting around the room.

I glare at her, ignoring her comment, and turn back to the other girl. "That might be it. If your dad was a cop, he could have taught you a few things."

Understanding dawns on my face. Nodding at her, I turn to the others. "Anyone have a bobby pin or something along those lines?"

They all shake their heads. "They took anything like that so we wouldn't be able to harm ourselves or have the possibility of getting out," one of the girls explains, her voice tinged with frustration.

Sighing, I lean on the bars behind me and slide to the ground. "Guess I have to do it the hard way." Their faces scrunch up at my words, watching my hands carefully. Rolling my hands, I get the connection points of the chain and begin to circle them.

"What are you doing?" one of the teens asks, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"I am going to break the chain," I state absentmindedly, focusing on the task at hand.

No other questions are asked as I continue to roll the chain. The quiet becomes distracting, and I glance up at the girls watching me intently. "So, where are we?" I ask, trying to break the silence and ease the tension.

"How are we supposed to know that?" someone grumbles, frustration evident in their voice.

"Guess that makes sense," I mumble. "Then how long have you guys been here?"

Their faces drop, but their eyes never leave my hands. "Most only a day or so. The girl in the corner has been here for a week from what she tells us. I've been here for three days," the older girl says, her voice steady but strained.

"Why don't you use her name?" I ask, my curiosity piqued. My question doesn't seem to shock the others as a girl scoots closer, her expression wary.

"We don't say our names. The last person to say their name never came back. The people here don't want us to make any connections," she explains, her voice barely above a whisper. The information is unsettling, and a sense of unease fills the room.

Confused, I leave it, focusing on what I am doing. You don't need a person's name to make connections with people, imbeciles, I think to myself, trying to push away the growing sense of dread.

Finally getting the chain to lock, I lift my knee and press my wrists against it. Pushing down and pulling outwards, the chain snaps. "Yes," I whisper triumphantly. Standing up, I turn to the bars. Feeling around the door, my fingers slide over an indent in one of the bars, like a keyhole. Idiots, I think, using a simple grade lock.

Backing away from the bars, I search the floor around our small cage. No pieces of metal or even food lay on the ground—only dirt and rocks. Sighing, I move to the walls, feeling around for anything useful. A small indent grazes my hand. Pulling out a rock from the wall, I sigh in disappointment. It's too big to pick a lock, completely useless. Sighing, I put it into my pocket just in case. My wrist slides across the zipper of my jacket.

Stopping, I glance down at my clothes. All my jewelry may be gone and my pockets empty, but my jacket is still here. Feeling around the collar, my fingers stop on a slight bump. "Thank you, Dad," I whisper, smiling as I rip open the collar and grab the piece of wire.

The girls' eyes widen at my actions as they see the small wire in my hands. Walking over to the door, I find the lock and start wiggling the wire around. "How did you get that?" one girl asks, her voice filled with curiosity.

"My dad put it in my jacket in case of an emergency. I thought it was useless and that he was being overly cautious, but it turns out his caution paid off." The lock clicks open a few minutes later. "And voilà, the door opens," I say, feeling a surge of triumph. Thanks again, Dad, for locking every door in the house and taking the keys.

Pushing the door open, I smirk at the girls over my shoulder. Their mouths hang open in shock as I step out of the small, grimy cell. "You coming?" I ask. They shake their heads, uncertainty etched on their faces. "Why?" I press, feeling a mix of frustration and concern.

The older girl speaks, her voice trembling slightly. "The people here...they are dangerous."

Raising an eyebrow, I stand up straight and walk back into the cell. "But if we get out of here, we can get the police and stop them."

The girls back away to the far wall, huddling in on themselves. "You can't stop them..."

"And you can't escape them."

Sighing, I take off my jacket and drop it to the floor. Picking the locks on the handcuffs, they fall onto my jacket with a light clink. Turning back to the girls, I stand at the now-open door. "I will come back for you," I say, my voice firm with determination.

"..."

Dropping into a crouch, I melt into the shadows as much as I can, pushing myself against the wall. I will get them out, all of them, safely. The resolve in my heart strengthens, even as the unease of the unknown wraps around me.

Feeling my way along the wall, I move slowly, taking careful steps along the cold concrete floor. The silence is almost oppressive, amplifying the sound of my own breathing and the faint rustle of my clothes. Minutes pass with no signs of people, the light from the small lamp long gone. There are no other cages or people—just a long, eerily silent concrete corridor, devoid of any light or warmth. The chill seeps into my bones, making me shiver as I continue my slow tread down the never-ending passageway.

Finally, my fingers fall into the air. Feeling around for another wall, I sigh in relief. It's only a corner, yet the unexpected openness adds to the eerie feeling.

Peeking around the corner, a flicker of light shines behind another bend at the end of the hall. Dim, but there. Moving slowly, I stop at the next corner. The cold air wraps around me like a shroud, heightening the creepiness of the place. Looking over the edge, light flickers through poor LED lights, casting dreary orange shadows. Wooden doors line the walls, a sense of foreboding emanating from them.

ne door sits proudly at the very end of the hall, sealed with a shiny metal lock. Turning my head down, I shut my eyes and focus on my other senses. Concentrating, I listen carefully for any slight noise. No sound beyond the small drips of water and the skittering of mice comes for the next few minutes. Taking a deep breath, I slip past the corner to the door at the end of the hall.

No windows are in any of the doors I pass, nor on the door I am walking toward. Sliding to a stop, I land heavily on my knees in front of the door's lock. Sliding my makeshift lock pick into my hand, I get to work. The cold air and the eerie silence heighten the creepiness of the place. Quickly making work on the simple lock, it flicks open with a satisfying click. Exhaling, I reach for the door handle, my heart pounding in the unsettling quiet.

"Did you see the girl they brought in, wow she got herself a good body." Freezing, I listen carefully to the new voices. A chill runs down my spine, and my heart begins to race.

"Oh yeah I did, I hope she stays here long enough to get some of that. You know how I like girls with long legs and she got them." Scurrying back, I make a dash to the corner. The voices get louder as they move closer to the door.

The jingle of keys rings loudly in my ears when they try the door. "Oh yeah, man me-isn't this door suppose to be locked?"

I hold my breath as the door creaks open. "Yes, it is." Putting a hand over my mouth, I slow my breathing even more, leaning into the wall behind me. "I know you're here, girl. There's no point in hiding; this is the only way out or in." The man's deep voice resonates in my head, taunting me.

My breath hitches as a pair of heavy footsteps slowly come my way. Fear grips my chest, making it hard to breathe. "We won't hurt you; we just want to make sure you're okay." I nearly laugh at the open lie in that statement. Who do they take me for, a fool? No one should believe a statement like that in my place.

Keeping my hand over my mouth, I slowly inch away from the corner. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears. Removing my hand once I am halfway down the corridor, I begin to turn, ready to dash for it. My legs tremble, and my palms are sweaty. Stiffening as a hand grabs my shoulder, I feel a cold wave of terror wash over me, forcing me around roughly.

A cold face smirks down at me, his eyes glinting with malice. "Found ya."

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