Chapter 1 (part 1): The Prisoner in the Dark

Liora opened her eyes, but the world around her was blurry. It felt as if a veil of mist covered everything, and the first thing she noticed was an ache in her neck. It was sore, stiff, as though someone had pulled it into a position she couldn't remember. Her head was heavy, as if she had been out all night and couldn't shake off a nightmare she couldn't recall. Her vision was still distorted, as if she had stared at the sun for hours and now lost touch with reality.

She tried to move her hand, but something was wrong. Her arms were bound, tight, with what felt like rope around her wrists. A sense of panic began to spread through her body as she pulled at the restraints, but it was impossible to break free.

"What's happening?" she mumbled to herself, her voice hoarse and weak, as though it had gone unused for days. She looked around, but it was just twilight, faint, indistinct outlines. A narrow window on her right gave a dim light, but it wasn't enough to reveal where she was. Outside, clouds slowly passed by, dark and heavy, as though the weather had somehow become part of this eerie place.

Liora tried to focus, but her vision was still too fuzzy. Her legs were bound too. It was impossible to see what was keeping her restrained, but she knew she was trapped. A cold wave of fear crept down her spine, and she took a deep breath, trying to calm the panic rising within her.

"Come on, Liora. Relax," she said aloud to herself, trying to steady her nerves. But she knew something was terribly wrong. Her voice trembled with every small movement, and her head throbbed more with each passing second.

What was it she had been doing? She tried to focus her mind, grasping at the loose threads of memory, but it was difficult to make sense of anything.

She had been in a rush that morning, hadn't she? There had been a fight with her parents—again. She remembered her frustration, the heat of the argument as she stormed out of their house. It was always the same with them. They never understood her, never let her make her own choices. The thought of sitting across from a man she didn't even know, on some forced date, made her blood boil.

She had gotten in the car and driven to work, trying to shake off the tension. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel, her thoughts racing as she tried to focus on the day ahead. She had a meeting with a major client. This was the big one—the one that could solidify her career, the one she had worked so hard for.

The memory was clearer now. She had arrived at the office, grabbed her things, and rushed into the building. The anxiety of the upcoming meeting had mixed with the residual anger from the argument. She had sat in her office, waiting for the call to head out to the client's location. But once she had arrived at the meeting spot—her mind blanked. The memory stopped there, as if someone had pressed a button to erase everything that came after.

The fog in her head grew thicker, and she couldn't remember what happened after that. Was there an accident? Had she been followed? Her heart raced again as she realized she had no idea where she was or how she got here.

She suddenly heard something—faint voices, mumbling from another room. They weren't clear, but she could hear at least two people speaking. One voice was deep, powerful, while the other was sharper and more nervous. She tried to listen, but the words were unintelligible, an unclear conversation she couldn't make sense of.

Before she could think further, she felt an overwhelming fatigue sweep over her, as though her body's energy was being drained by an invisible force. She knew she had to break free, but with every passing second, she felt more and more exhausted. Her thoughts were like fog—blurred, disorganized, and it felt as if she was being overtaken by a sleep she couldn't avoid.

"Where am I?" she whispered. Her voice was barely audible, but in this silence, it felt like she screamed. Her eyes flickered around, but she couldn't form a clear image. Everything was dim, as if the darkness itself was swallowing her.

The clouds outside the window seemed like a bad sign. Where was the sun? Why wasn't there any clear light? And what was the sound of the engine roaring faintly in the distance? A car? An engine running far away. It was low, but constant, as if something was approaching her, or maybe it was already nearby.

"I need to get out of here," she whispered to herself, tugging at the ropes holding her, but it was hopeless. The skin around her wrists burned from the friction, and her legs felt like heavy lumps of wood. Her body was exhausted, and she could feel herself slipping into a sleep she couldn't escape.

The dark clouds in the window outside were a bad omen. Why were they so dark, so heavy? She couldn't put her finger on it, but they were different—more ominous than ordinary clouds. And the engine. It buzzed around in her head like an echo of a coming storm.

Liora tried to keep her eyes open, but they felt heavy, as if they were filled with lead. She clenched her fist and pulled one last time at the ropes binding her. But her strength was gone. Her whole body was a wave of pain and fatigue.

And at last, unable to do anything more, she lost consciousness.