I'm alone in bed when I wake up.

Everything hurts. My head. My throat. My back. The blinding lights from above.

I wonder how I got back to this bed and if the guy brought me here. I quickly search around the room, finding it empty. The door to the bathroom is closed. He must be in there. I reach my hand out to the spot next to me. It's warm, so it can't be that long since he got up. I turn on my side towards the wall, shielding my eyes with the crook of my arm.

I shiver as I recall the incident with the gas filling the room. I can't even begin to understand why that happened, but the guy seemed to know. I also think he was trying to help me, as improbable as that seemed.

I'm so confused.

Who is he?

Why is he here?

Why am I here?

I hear the toilet flush, followed by water running from the sink. I flinch when the door opens, still unsure whether I can trust him or not. I freeze and don't move from my position, not knowing how to act or what to do besides stare at the white wall in front of me.

I listen as he walks towards the bed. I squeeze my eyes shut when his footsteps stop. When he doesn't make another sound I know it's because he's watching me. His stare burns against my back.

I'm about to open my eyes when the mattress sinks. My heart skips a beat, and I silently pray he doesn't touch me. I rationalize that if he wanted to hurt me, he would've done it already. He also said he wouldn't, but he might've only said that to get me to calm down.

Minutes drag by. I know because I've been counting the seconds to my heartbeat. He doesn't say anything for a long time. All I hear is a heavy sigh and the smallest murmur under his breath.

I pretend to be sleeping, but he must know I'm awake. I'm in a different position from when he got up from the bed. But I'm not ready to face him again. If it's anything like how it went before, then I'd rather delay the nightmare as much as possible.

"Hey."

The single word he utters is barely a whisper, yet the sound of it reverberates through my entire body. It takes hold of my chest, causing me to lose count of my heartbeat.

"I—I got you some water," he says.

My eyes flick open. The hesitation in his voice strikes me, but more than that, my mouth goes dry at the mention of water. My throat feels like sandpaper. Taken aback by his offer, I push up on my elbows and turn towards him. A paper cup fills my view and I don't hesitate to take it, quickly gulping it down.

"Thank you," I say. Despite the refreshment, my voice comes out hoarse. It's not a surprise after all the screaming that I did. I cringe in embarrassment just thinking about it.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he says, rushing the words. They're surprisingly soft. He stops to clear his throat. "I didn't mean to scare you. I know what I must look like. It's just—it's been a while. You caught me off guard."

I raise my head to look at him. His body stiffens as our eyes meet. He sucks in a breath, holding it as he waits for a response. It takes me a moment to understand his reaction. He's nervous. Really nervous. Like he's scared of me.

It's hard to believe this is the same person I was so scared of. He looks different now that he's wearing a plain white T-shirt and his imposing muscles aren't on full display. He's no longer the monster who wanted to hurt me. Quite the opposite. He's a vulnerable guy with his heart on his sleeve. His stance is cautious, and the concern I thought I'd seen before in his eyes is now prominent.

"A while?" I inquire, wondering what he meant exactly by that.

He slowly nods, letting out the breath he'd been holding. "Since I've seen or spoken to someone." He tilts his head to the side to get a better look at me. He stares as if I were a ghost. "What's your name?"

His response confirms my earlier suspicions. He's not my captor. He's too beaten down. His rugged appearance and skin tone lead me to believe he hasn't seen the sun in months—maybe years.

"I'm Mateo," he says when I don't answer.

"Lili," I reply.

"Lili," he repeats. "That's a pretty name."

"Thanks." I don't know if he really means that or if it's an attempt to gain my trust. I also don't tell him that my full name is Liliana, but most people call me Lili anyway.

He looks at me intently, almost in wonder. I drop eye contact with him, feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny. "Sorry. I'm still finding it hard to believe that you're real," he says.

I try to swallow the knot in my throat before asking him how long he's been here. I'm afraid to know. Deciding that I might not be able to handle it, I decide to start with an easier question instead. A question I already know the answer to. "So you're being held against your will?"

He responds right away. "Yes."

I close my eyes, unsure if I want to hear the answer to my next question. "Why? For ransom?" It's the first reason I can think of for holding someone for so long. Prostitution is the second, but I don't dare mention it.

"I don't know."

My head whips up to look at him in disbelief. "How can you not know?"

"I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you," he replies.

He must be lying. "So they just keep you here? And you have no idea why?" I ask, starting to get angry.

"Please don't freak out," he says, holding up his hands. "I'll answer all your questions, but you need to stay calm. I'd like to avoid the gas."

I take a deep breath. I'd like to avoid it too. "So that's how they control you? With the gas?"

He nods. "Yes. If I do something they don't like, they'll use the gas. Also for cleaning up in here every now and then. They'll change the bed sheets, stuff like that."

"How long does the gas knock you out for?"

"I can't say for sure, but I think it's a few hours. It's hard to tell time in here."

I sigh harshly, looking around the room. With windowless walls and no natural sunlight, I can see how it would be almost impossible. "Do they ever turn the lights off?" I ask.

"No, they're almost always on. There aren't any light switches either. It's all controlled from outside," he says. "Sometimes they'll turn them off, but it's meant as punishment for bad behavior. It's worse in the dark," he adds with a slight shudder.

Damn. How does he sleep at night? Or not starve to death?

"What about food?"

"They slide a tray through the door slot every day," he says. "I slide it back afterwards, otherwise I don't get food the next day. Learned that the hard way."

My mouth opens, finding it hard to believe he's survived this way. "Who are these people?"

He looks away from me for the first time. "I don't know. I've never seen them."

"But they must want something. Do they hurt you?"

"No. Well, at least not physically. It's all emotional, I guess. With the gas, the food, the lights. The solitude," he says, trailing off.

As terrified as I am right now, I can't imagine going through all of this alone, with no one to talk to. I'm surprised he's as coherent as he is right now. "Have you tried to escape?" I ask.

He looks in my direction again, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. "I've tried a few different things. But it's all in vain. They have cameras in here, so if I ever try anything, they're quick to stop it with the gas. Nothing ever works."

I look up at the ceiling. "Where are the cameras?"

"I haven't actually seen them. The ceiling is too high to get to, but I know they're there. Audio too, I think."

I study the height of the ceiling. I think if I were to stand on his shoulders I would be able to get a better look. I almost suggest it out loud, but his comment about the audio stops me. I don't want to face another round of gas, and maybe we could plan it better later.

"I have to say. You're surprisingly calm right now," he says. "Especially compared to earlier. Should I be worried?"

I look down at my hands. He's right. I should totally be freaking out right now, even more than before now that I've confirmed I'm trapped in here. Yet, somehow, knowing that he's been trapped in here by himself for who knows how long makes me feel sympathetic towards him, and I haven't quite gotten to the part where I process my own plight.

"I'm just trying to figure this all out," I explain. "And I'm sorry for the way I ... acted. I thought you had kidnapped me."

"You mean for kicking me in the balls and then spitting in my face?" he asks.

I wince as I look up at him, but he seems amused rather than mad. "Yeah."

"It's okay. I guess I deserved it. Just try not to do it again. I'd still like to have kids one day. You know, if I ever get out of here."

I nod, not wanting to give away any promises. By now I've established that Mateo is a decent person, but at the end of the day, he's a guy and I'm a girl. He holds all the power in this situation, as he clearly demonstrated earlier. I'm not going to forget the way he manhandled me anytime soon. Even if I do forget, the muscles on his arms are a clear reminder.

I need to get on his good side or I'm screwed.

And if I'm not careful, these four walls will consume me.