I woke up to the taste of fear in my mouth and a dull throbbing on the skin of my stomach. A mix of sickening clarity.

I tried swallowing past the dryness in my mouth--my throat, but it was too difficult. I didn't know if Santiago had brought me any water. I didn't know how long I'd been here, how much of time had left me. Time didn't seem to exist in this darkness.

A soft groan left my lips--a sound that seemed to echo within the silence--when I made a move to sit up from the ground, wincing when everything seemed to ache. I pulled my hands closer to my chest, shivering in the still too dark surroundings, and it took me too long to register the soft padding around my wrists. No harsh metal encasing them, but instead there was a wrap--soft medical guaze wrapped around my wrists.

I felt my heart picking up its pace when the reality of it all crashed into me. Santiago had done this, hadn't he? Tended to my wrists?

Touched you while you were too out of it, a sinister thought went through me.

I squeezed my eyes close, trying to not thinkthinkthink. I wanted to ignore the bad, but it was too difficult. My mind and my thoughts and all of what was inside me felt broken right now. It felt broken like shards of glass. It kept hurting.

I reached out with my hands, searching around for the chains and could feel them right there, lying on my left. Left open and not trapping me here anymore. I inhaled slowly, tried to look around the dark to see if Santiago was here. Was he tricking me? Did he want me to stand up and make a run for it?

Did he want to hurt me more?

Heart almost in my throat, I stood up on shaky legs, grimacing at the flare of pain on my side. I had to lean against the concrete behind me when the ringing in my ears got to be too much. This is not right. It's not--it's not.

I took a step away from the wall, and then another. Timid, shaky steps filling me with shreds of hope. Hope in this place was dangerous. I knew it couldn't be this easy, not after all the pain he'd wanted to inflict on me. I didn't even know how to escape from here. Was there a door or would there be a window? I couldn't see anything. I could only touch the walls around me, desperately hoping they could guide me towards the way out--an easy way out.

The only energy left inside me was depleting fast.

It was a handful of agonizing seconds--minutes--moments before I felt a heavy, rusted knob under my fingers. They slipped under the force it took me to twist it around, all of it too slow until a door opened. The dark didn't leave though. I took a small step and felt stairs leading up.

Up. So I was in a basement. Or a cellar.

I had to press a hand over my mouth to stifle any sound that I knew I'd make. The horror of it all was embedded into my skin now. I had to try to escape. I had to take this chance because this would be the only one I'd be getting. I knew it. I knew Santiago.

Lifting my bare feet, I walked up the staircase. I was slow and shaky, scared out of my mind. Every little sound I made made me flinch with expected horror to come barreling into me. It got to a point that I didn't think the stairs would end--that maybe I was trapped here and I would fall down all the stairs I'd just climbed. Maybe this is what he'd wanted. For me to hope and then fail. For me to never hope again.

But then there came another door right in front of me and my hand slipped twice on the door knob this time.

I twisted it, pushing it open, and the soft light illuminating my vision almost made me cry out. Instead, I muffled it against my palm. Oh God. A sound escaped me as I stood there, shaking. It was a house--a room, that had all the lights switched off except for the sunlight peaking through the grime covered windows.

It was devastatingly abandoned, I realized, as I ran my feverish gaze all around. Looking for people--for Santiago. He wasn't here.

He couldn't have just left me. He wouldn't. I knew he wouldn't. He wanted me to die. He wanted me to be nothing--he wanted me to turn into a hollow shell until there was nothing.

He wanted me to kill myself.

He wouldn't just leave.

Stumbling out of the room that looked like it might've been a lounge once, I entered another. It was dizzying as I stepped out, as I took it all in shock and fear and paranoia. There wasn't a single sound in this place apart from my own ragged breathing. No noise from outside either.

I don't know where I am, I thought. How will I escape?

A landline, I saw hooked on one of the narrow walls covered in dark, chipped off paint. The receiver was dangling on the floor and I knew it wouldn't be working. It couldn't be. It just couldn't.

But when I placed it over my ear, my fingers shaking too much with panic and hope, I could hear a faint beep on the other end. Inhaling too fast, I ran my fingers across the numbers, pressing the string of phone numbers I remembered first--that I needed to call--that I needed to hear.

I pressed it over my ear, pushing myself into the narrowest corner, trying to hidehidehide until I wouldn't be visible. I wasn't safe, but maybe--just maybe--

The phone rang insistently. I squeezed my eyes close and hoped desperately. I begged quietly to anyone who would listen to me. Please, pick up.

It was a moment too long. The phone kept ringing until the very end before it was answered.

"Who is it?" The voice--that voice--Ryder's voice was a safety net thrown at me too fast--too sudden when I'd been depraved of it in this awful place. It was too natural when a loud, trembling sob left my lips. My knees couldn't hold me up anymore. I slid down the wall, on the hard flooring, clutching the receiver like it was my only lifeline. It was. God, it was right in that moment.

"R-Ryder." He's here. He's right here. Please, don't leave me.

There was a pause. An agonizing beat that left my heart screaming in fear.

"Alice." There was a whisper, and then his voice, frantic and terrified, was the only hope left inside my battered heart. "Jesus, querida. Talk to me. Alice? Speak to me."

I nodded and nodded again, but I was crying by then and nothing intelligible was coming out of me.

"Hey, hey, querida. I'm here. I'm right here. Speak to me, baby. You need to let me hear you--speak something, let me know you're okay?"

"I c-c-can't." I shook--my whole body did. I held the receiver in a deathly grip but it trembled with me. The sound of Ryder's voice was oxygen to my depraved body and soul.

"Alice." He kept saying. I curled into myself. The pain in his voice--the agony of it all resembled the one in my ribs. "I'll come and get you, okay? Do you hear me? I'm almost there."

How? I wanted to ask. I nodded frantically. He couldn't even see me. "He's...H-He's going to k-kill me."

"Mierda. No. No, I won't let him, querida."

My head pulse. "P-Please. You said--You said you'd keep me safe. Y-You promised. Why--where are you?"

He murmured something--swore out loud. I had the reciever pressed too tightly onto my ear that his voice was getting muffled. I couldn't make my fingers let go.

"...fuck, I know. I know. Jesus, are you hurt? Where is he right now?"

"I d-don't know." My voice fell to a scared whisper.

"Querida." He sounded pained. "Please tell me you're not too hurt."

He knew I was. The underlying agony in his voice told me thatvhe already knew. "R-Ryder." I whispered.

"I'm here." His voice was too tight--scared.

"You...Y-You will come save me?"

He went quiet, my heart squeezing until he spoke, "I'm almost there."

No, he wasn't. It broke me more than anything right then--to know that he had to be lying to me. He'd never lied to me before but he was lying to me now. He is, my mind screamed at me. Why is he lying to you?

"Alice." He tried to speak over my ragged sobs, his voice soft and pained. "Alice--querida, listen to me?"

I shook my head, too much and too fast. My heart ached in despair. He's not coming, my mind whispered to me, no longer screaming in agony.

"Y-You're lying to me." I cried.

"I love you," he said to me amidst the anguish. "Hold onto that for me?"

I cried harder, the ache in my chest screaming for a way out. There was no way out.

Ryder said something else, but I failed to hear him--failed to make it out when it was too sudden, a door being thrown open. Sudden, loud footsteps marched around the corner until a dark figure stepped out--until Santiago stepped into my vision. Tall and imposing and a murderous scowl on his face.

I froze, the landline reciever dropping from my fist.

"N-No--" I whispered, but he was too fast.

"Shouldn't have patched up your fucking injuries." He spat, grabbing me by the front of my shirt and hauling me up. I heard the clatter of the landline, felt the hot iron grip of fingers around my throat before I was slammed back against the very wall I had been leaning against. I choked, tear-filled eyes widening, body burning alive with agony, hands coming up to claw off his fingers--let me breathe. "You don't fucking listen, Alice Rhodes."

Darkness started spotting my vision, my breaths coming out short and choppy. I wheezed, desperate, and he let go, only to grab me by my hair, my scalp and start dragging me away from the landline. Away and away. I stumbled after him, crying out--my mind slipping its grasp on the only reality I was left with. I kept almost falling but he wouldn't let me--wouldn't until there were those stairs again and the dark again and until I was thrown across the basement ground again.

The same one I'd been trapped in for days now. The same one I'd just escaped.

I coughed, fingers grabbing my throat, but the oxygen felt like a lie now. I still couldn't breathe.

"You shouldn't have escaped." He was breathing heavily. I scrambled away--tried to get away from him. My head spun--my mind trying to search for the remnants of Ryder's voice that had touched my ears just seconds ago. The warmth of his voice had been my safe beacon. I love you, he'd told me, hadn't he? That wasn't a lie too, was it?

There was a click, a rustle. I flinched when he fisted his hand in my hair again, his presence too close. "Listen."

There was a click and then a loud, deafening gunshot. Too close. Too close to me. A horrified, dying noise escaped me.

"One more sound from you and the next bullet's going through your throat." He threatened.

"N-No, please--"

He leaned close, the gun in his hand pressing against the side of my face. I sobbed, squeezing my eyes shut until it hurt like the rest of me. The metal dug into my cheekbone, my jaw, against my lips. The dry sobs racking my frame grew in terror.

"You are being difficult--" he pressed the gun firmly against the corner of my mouth. "--for no reason."

I could feel it too close to me--the scent of death and blood. The scent of it all ending too soon.

I love you, Ryder whispered in my ears, my mind, again and again and again.

"I've been so fucking nice to you. Maybe that's the problem here. You're too used to people treating you like trash? Your Ryder treated you like trash too, didn't he? Did he use you? Hit you?" The gun disappeared. I opened my eyes, terrified, until another gunshot rang around me. Closer this time, closer than before. My ears hurt. "You shouldn't have called him."

The gunshots kept happening.

"Why do you still wish to escape!" He yelled. "None of the others were this difficult. What have you got to live for? What will be there for you, Alice, after all of this? Why do you want to live?"

He was angry--livid. I could feel it in the way his fingers dug into me. The rage, the gunshots, it paralyzed me. He murmured something--words on repeat, slow and manic, then spoke louder, "We only have moments left now before he comes here. Only moments to finish this, you see?"

He grabbed me pressed the gun against the side of my stomach. Fresh pain flared up my side. I screamed.

"I do not hold any grudges against him, really I don't. Only his father. His mistake was getting involved with you when you've already been tainted. You must meet your end, Alice. It's only fair to the others who chose death before you."

Too much. My hands were free and not chained. I wanted to stop him but I couldn't. I couldn't couldn't couldn't.

"I burned one who was afraid of fire. Drowned the fourth one, I think. She'd had her dad almost killing her in a pool once. And then your best friend Brooke." He rasped--rambling--shaking me with the grip on my head. "She was afraid of heights. Almost pushed her off one until you interrupted. I know you're afraid of guns, aren't you, so this'll have to do."

Stop, I wanted to say. But my voice wasn't mine anymore.

He pressed the mouth of the gun into me, into my skin, until pain and terror were all I knew.

"You weren't meant to live this long anyway, Alice." He whispered to me.

Only seconds, I squeezed my eyes close, braced myself for another deafening gunshot--the last one--and felt my thoughts slipping away from me.

But then he growled out loud--a sound so entirely anguished and pained--confused and deadly. It seemed like it came from me. But no, it was all Santiago as he ripped the gun away from me, ripped himself away from me.

The sudden loss of his grip had me falling on my side, on the ground, shaking like a leaf.

"Fuck!" He yelled, growled out that noise again. I flinched violently. "You're making me into a monster! You're making me kill you when that's not the purpose of it all!"

I held myself still on the ground, breaths getting shallow and slow, mind slipping away from it all.

I heard him, but his voice was getting too far from my reach. Finally. "Tell me you want to die. Say it!"

I shook my head, skin digging into the concrete. No, I wanted to say. I love you, Ryder whispered back to me. Hold on.

There was a gunshot. Five gunshots. A series of ringing sounds. And then silence.

Pure silence.

Seconds--minutes--hours, I didn't know how long I remained that way. On the ground. Terrified. Trembling. My ears rang with insistent gunfire even when it didn't exist anymore. Too much, all of it a void I was trapped in.

I stayed--terrified.

I don't know how long I stayed that way. All I knew was the shaky inhale that I took in--the first deep breath I took that didn't make my lungs ache--the moment I heard voices. Multiple voices.

Far away and muffled. I don't want to die, I wanted to say. But I didn't have it in myself. I didn't know how to say it. I didn't--

The voices grew louder, harsh light from a torch, loud slams reverberating through my bones. I didn't want to die, so I scrambled up and tried to get away--away from it all--awayawayaway. My ears still rang, my heart raced in fear, and I needed to leave. I needed to get out of here. How do I get out of here?

I scrambled away from the lights, from the footsteps, from it all.

"No." A whisper left my lips.

And then a voice--my hope.

"Alice."

I scrambled away from it, because the lights were blinding me and the voice--that voice belonged to Ryder but he couldn't be here. I knew he wasn't. I pressed my trembling fingers over my ears. They burned.

The voices merged with one another. I curled into myself. Make it go away. Please.

"Alice. Jesus." I heard it again, then a small thud. Footsteps neared me, panic and worry and rage. Warmth--I felt. Fingers on the side of my face, my neck, warm and insistent and safe. I flinched and they froze. "Querida."

I was breathing fast, too fast.

Fingers encircled my wrists, the guaze over my wrists, not harsh like the ones before, but insistent. My head spun. "Alice--querida, stop. Stop. Look at me."

I didn't. I couldn't. The terror had me in a chokehold, not letting me breathe.

"Y-You can't be h-here."

"I am here." He kept saying, his voice tight, laced with fury, but his touch so gentle. Familiar. Safe. I gasped for breath and he leaned close. "Querida, please let me hold you."

It was then that I realized I was away, caged inside my mind, afraid of him, flinching away. He was so near--he was here but I was terrified.

"R-Ryder?" My voice broke, my eyes frantically trying to trace the silhouette of his face. He kneeled in front of me, but it was too dark to see the look on his face.

"I'm here."

"Ryder." I said, whispered, hands reaching out towards him--touching him slowly, paranoid, scared--terrified. Until I reached his face, his jaw, the rough stubble there. A heavy lump formed in my throat. "Ryder."

"I'm here, querida." He repeated, voice anguished. I felt his hands reaching for me, stopping--the raw fury in his voice when he asked me, "Let me hold you?" Because I'd flinched away from him?

I nodded once, twice, frantic--a noise leaving me that was all relief and agony--all terror and heartbreak. He held me without a second's pause, wrapped his arms all around me the moment I scrambled onto him, grabbing onto him, my hands and fingers holding on tight enough to hurt but I couldn't--I didn't let go.

"It's okay. It's okay." He kept murmuring into my ear--his hand in my hair, cradling the back of my head, his lips pressing against the side of my head. "You're okay. I'm here. I'm not letting go."

I pressed myself impossibly closer--the thought of any space between us a terror I couldn't shake off of me.

"D-Don't." I kept saying, my voice shaking, my words not making any sense but the effort it took me right then to get them out left me dying. He didn't kill me, I wanted to say instead.

Ryder pressed his lips on every inch of my face that he could without pushing me away, without pulling away from me. I trembled, but he held me in the dark.

"I won't, querida." He whispered to me, my ears alone. I tightened my grip on him. He let me. "We're okay."

We're okay, I let his voice repeat in my head, again and again and again, until that was the only thing holding me together.