A prison.

Sam's chest tightens as his words sink in. Her mind races with questions, each more desperate than the last.

"What do you mean, a prison?" She demands, her voice sharper than she intends.

The fair-skinned male—Austin Moore, finally informing them of who he is—shrugs, his Millscove High green and gold letterman jacket shifting slightly with the motion. His medium-length reddish-blonde hair looks tousled, like he's just rolled out of bed, but there's a practiced confidence in the way he carries himself. He's about the others' age, sixteen or so, with fair skin and a lean, athletic build that hints at hours spent on football fields and baseball diamonds. Decals on his sleeves confirm it—a small baseball and a football embroidered on the cuffs.

"Look around," Austin says, gesturing to the pristine but soulless environment. "This isn't a house. It's too clean, too... sterile. It's like someone's idea of what a house should look like, not an actual place people live. And that camera?" He points to the black lens above the large screen. "It's watching us. This whole thing—it's fake."

"How would you know?" Sam shoots back, crossing her arms. "You think just because you're wearing that jacket, you're smarter than the rest of us?"

Austin's eyes narrow, his easy arrogance replaced by a flicker of annoyance. "I'm just saying what's obvious. If you don't like it, tough."

Henry, who wanders around a small desk, finally noticing a silver laptop on the small desk, clears his throat nervously. "I don't think it's... a normal house either."

Sam glances at him. His skinny frame and hunched shoulders make him look smaller than he is, and the way he fiddles with his glasses doesn't help, as he sits on the chair, pushing it up to interact with the computer. His dark skin gleams under the dim light, and those wrinkled clothes suggest he wasn't planning on being anywhere important when he got taken.

"See?" Austin says smirking. "Even the nerd agrees."

Henry's cheeks flush, and he ducks his head, pretending to focus on the laptop screen. Sam's temper flares. "Hey, leave him alone!" She snaps. "Just because you think you're God's gift to high school doesn't mean you can be a dick."

Austin raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing. "Feisty. Didn't peg you for the tomboy type."

Sam steps closer, her voice low and dangerous. "Say that again. I dare you."

For a moment, the tension between them crackles like static electricity. Then Austin holds up his hands, feigning surrender. "Relax. I'm just messing with you."

"Maybe don't," Sam retorts, her gaze steady. "And stop pretending you're better than us. You're stuck here too."

Austin doesn't reply, but the smug look on his face fades slightly.

Henry shifts uncomfortably, finally tearing his eyes away from the laptop. "Um, guys? Can we not fight? I think we have bigger problems."

Before anyone can respond, a soft sound interrupts them. A faint creak, like a door opening, echoes from one of the other rooms. All three teens freeze, their eyes darting toward the source of the noise.

"Did you hear that?" Henry whispers.

Sam nods, her muscles tensing. Austin exchanges a wary glance with her before taking a cautious step toward the sound. "Stay back." She says, moving ahead of him.

"Oh, so you're in charge now?" Austin mutters, but he follows her anyway.

The door across the room swings open slowly, and a figure emerges. It's a teenage female, younger than the rest of them, maybe fifteen. Her dark hair is cut into a blunt bob that frames her round face, and she's dressed in loose, faded jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. Her complexion is pale, and her dark Asian eyes dart around nervously as she steps into the open space.

She freezes when she sees them, clutching the sleeves of her sweatshirt tightly. For a moment, no one moves.

"Who are you?" Sam asks, her voice soft but firm.

The girl doesn't respond. She ducks her head and makes her way to the couch, sitting as far away from them as possible. Her hands tremble slightly as she pulls her knees to her chest.

"What's her deal?" Austin mutters. "Is she... what, deaf?"

Henry gives him an exasperated look. "Mute," he corrects. "There's a difference."

"Whatever," Austin says with a dismissive wave. "Same result."

Sam hesitates, then takes a step toward the girl. "Hey," she says gently. "It's okay. We're not going to hurt you. We... we're all in the same boat here."

The girl doesn't look up, but her grip on her knees loosens slightly. Being just a few feet away, Henry gets up from the desk chair and approaches her cautiously. His voice soft and steady.

"My name's Henry. That's Sam, and that's Austin...What's your name?"

The girl glances at him, her dark eyes wary. For a long moment, she says nothing. Then, barely above a hum, she whispers, "Maddie."

Sam offers her a small smile. "Maddie. That's a nice name."

Maddie doesn't respond, but her posture relaxes a fraction. Sam sits on the edge of the couch, careful to keep some distance.

"Do you remember how you got here?"

Maddie shakes her head, her eyes flicking nervously to the camera lens above the screen. Sam follows her stare and frowns. The thought has been gnawing at the back of her mind since she woke up, but seeing Maddie's reaction makes it impossible to ignore.

"Do you think... they're watching us?" Sam asks quietly.

Austin scoffs. "Of course they are. Why else would they put a camera there?"

Henry's brow perks up. "But who... and why?"

"Does it matter?" Austin says, his voice rising slightly. "We're being held against our will. That's all we need to know."

Sam frowns but doesn't argue. The more she thinks about it, the more Austin's words ring true. This isn't just some elaborate prank. Something is very, very wrong.

The group decides to explore the rest of the house, hoping to find more answers behind their mysterious stay. They move cautiously down a narrow hallway on the left side of the kitchen, their footsteps echoing softly on the polished floor. The familiar silverish-white doors, each identical to the ones they stepped out of as well a few more unopened. At the end of the hall, they find what looks like a silverish metal front door, but it's completely sealed, with no handle or visible way to open it.

"Figures," Austin mutters, kicking the base of the door in frustration.

Suddenly, Henry hears something weird. Strange whispery, roaring-like noises floating nearby. As Henry asks the others do they hear what he is hearing, they all don't respond instantly. Soon Henry's attention is drawn to another door on their right. It's a silverish aluminum door, also with no handles or visible way to get through. The noises could be coming there.

Henry points to something interesting. "Look at this."

Unlike the other doors, this one has a small sign affixed to it: Forbidden Room.

"That's subtle," Austin says, rolling his eyes.

Sam steps closer, her brow furrowing. "Why would they label it like that?"

Before anyone can speculate further, that strange whispery, roaring-like noise is coming from inside the restricted room. That sound low and indistinct, like a muffled hiss. Henry's eyes widen, and he takes a step back.

"Did you hear that?"

"Yeah," Sam says, finally understanding what Henry is babbling about. "What is that?"

They stare at the door, the weight of the moment pressing down on them. Before they can decide what to do, the lights overhead flicker, casting eerie shadows across the hallway.

"Great," Austin mutters. "Because this wasn't creepy enough."

A sudden cry from the Central Room snaps them out of their unease. "Maddie!" Sam shouts, sprinting back down the hallway. The others follow close behind.

Maddie is standing by the couch, pointing a trembling finger at the camera lens. Her face is pale, and her breaths come in short, panicked gasps. "Look!" She freaks, her voice shaking.

Sam, Austin, and Henry follow her scared gaze. The camera lens, which had been dark and lifeless moments ago, now glows with a small, ominous red light.

"They're watching," Austin says grimly.

Sam's stomach churns as the reality sinks in. Whoever brought them here isn't just observing. They're making their presence known.