Thrown into Darkness

When she opened her eyes, Merina couldn't tell if it was morning or night. The darkness around her swallowed every trace of time. She blinked, her vision foggy, her body sore. As she slowly sat up, a cold chill spread across her skin.

And then it hit her—this wasn't her home.

Panic surged in her chest. Her breathing quickened. She looked around, trying to gather even the smallest clue about where she was. The room was pitch black—no lights, no windows, and no sound except for her own heartbeat thudding against her ribs.

She ran her hand along the surface beneath her. A bed. The only thing she could clearly identify. Everything else was lost in the shadows.

Her thoughts raced.

Who were the people who kidnapped me? Why me? Where did they take me?

Suddenly, the silence broke.

A loud creak echoed through the room as a door somewhere opened. A narrow line of light spilled into the darkness, and Merina instinctively raised her hand to shield her eyes. Her pupils screamed from the sudden brightness.

A woman stood at the door. Tall, unmoving. Her face was hidden in the contrast between light and shadow.

"So… you finally opened your eyes?" the woman asked, her voice cold, detached.

"Who are you?! What is this place?" Merina demanded, her voice hoarse.

"You'll understand everything soon."

"Why did you bring me here—" she began, pushing herself up.

"I said, you'll understand soon." The woman's tone turned sharp, cutting off her question without hesitation.

She walked forward and placed a metal plate of food on the floor.

"Eat."

Just before leaving, she turned slightly, her face still obscured. Her gaze was empty.

"Don't try to escape."

And with that, the door slammed shut.

Merina sat frozen, the silence returning louder than before.

What will they do to me? Where is my money? Why am I here?? Are they going to kill me? Grandma must be worried sick!

She gritted her teeth and stood up, determined not to break. She began searching the room, brushing her hands along the walls, drawers, shelves—anything she could find. Her eyes had adjusted slightly now, just enough to make out vague shapes in the room.

But there was nothing useful.

Until her eyes landed on a mirror—cracked at the corner. A spike of defiance rose in her.

She grabbed the edge of the mirror, smashed it on the wooden table, and took a shard of glass, sharp and glinting in the faint light. Her fingers trembled as she gripped it tightly, the cool edge grounding her in reality.

Then—footsteps.

And something was being dragged.

She rushed to the wall near the door, pressing her ear against it.

"This is the room, right?" a man's voice.

"Yeah… or maybe not. Doesn't matter. We'll find the girl eventually. Just throw him in here," another replied casually, like tossing away trash.

Merina's grip on the glass tightened. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt.

She crouched, ready to strike as soon as they opened the door.

The dragging sound grew louder. Her breathing stopped.

They opened the door.

Merina lunged forward—only to find… they'd opened a different room.

"Did you hear that?" one of them asked.

"Yeah, from the next room. Must be the girl. This room's empty anyway."

And now… they were outside her door.

She held her breath, pressed tighter against the wall.

"Ready?" one of them asked.

The door creaked open again.

This is it. Go. Now! Attack!

Her mind screamed.

But her body—froze.

Why can't I move?! Why now?!

Something thudded onto the floor in front of her.

A large sack.

"Why's this room so dark?" a man muttered. "Can't even see the girl. I wanted to have some fun too."

"We're not here for fun," the other growled. "Just throw him in. That's all."

They dropped the sack and left without another word.

The door slammed again.

Merina stayed frozen for a few seconds, her chest rising and falling in harsh gasps.

She turned toward the sack. It wasn't moving. But something in her gut twisted.

She stepped closer, slowly, her fingers still clutching the glass shard.

She crouched.

Her hands brushed the rough fabric. There was something—or someone—inside.

She pressed her hand gently on it. It rose slightly.

Breathing.

A heartbeat.

She grabbed the knot on the sack's opening, hesitating.

Who is this?

Why is he here?

She loosened the knot, and the sack fell open just enough for her to see the pale outline of a boy, curled up tightly.

His wrists were bruised.

His eyes were closed.

He didn't move.

Her voice cracked into a whisper.

"…Who are you?"