A Diary

Emma's POV

It’s been days since Michael last visited. The isolation, coupled with the relentless silence, gnaws at my sanity. Food is scarce; the kitchen’s supplies have dwindled to almost nothing, but I don’t have the appetite to eat anyway. Depression has wrapped its cold fingers around me again, squeezing the life out of my will to survive. At least the tap water still works, so I won’t die of thirst. That’s a small blessing, I suppose.

I can move freely within the house, but it feels more like a gilded cage than any kind of refuge. The mansion is vast, with three stories and an expansive garden where two bodyguards keep vigil. Every attempt to escape has ended in failure. The last time, I tried to jump the barriers, but one of the guards caught me. Following Michael’s orders, they beat me savagely. My injuries from the car accident had been healing, but this assault left me feverish and weak.

Now, I’m shivering uncontrollably. The fever is taking its toll. Desperation pushes me to