I don't belong here

Sherry was woken up by the deafening rumble of thunder, the sound blending with the heavy patter of rain against what felt like cold stone. Her eyes, still heavy with exhaustion, struggled to focus on the dim shadows that surrounded her. She lay on a wet floor, the slickness of the ground confirming that water had seeped through the narrow window above her. Disoriented, Sherry blinked once, twice, pushing herself up, her palms slick against the moisture-coated ground.

Her breath hitched as she glanced around. The room, devoid of light except for a faint glow spilling in from a hallway beyond, felt small and suffocating. A sense of danger slithered around her, the stone walls holding more than just coldness; they held secrets. The air reeked of damp stone and rusted metal.

Sherry's mind raced as she pushed herself up on shaky legs, her fingers brushing against the cold iron bars that separated her from freedom. Bars. This wasn't a room. This was a cage. She peered through the darkness, eyes focusing on the dim light beyond the cell door.

She racked her brain, trying to remember how she had ended up here. The last thing she recalled was walking back home after a long day of work at the small Foster family grocery business and her aunt and uncle asking her to wait for them as they went to check the market. The memory of meeting and running away from Mr. Jason flashed through her mind. He had been late in collecting supplies for his employer, and the market had been closed because of the rain. Her uncle and aunt had gone out to look for him when he hadn't shown up on time. After that... nothing. No recollection of how she ended up locked away like a prisoner.

Her stomach knotted in fear. "Hello? Is anyone out there? Please!" she called out, her voice trembling, desperate for some semblance of clarity.

"Shut your mouth before you get us both killed," a sharp voice hissed from the darkness behind her. Sherry's’s heart skipped, her head whipping around in alarm. She hadn't realized she wasn't alone. The voice belonged to a woman, who stepped out of the shadows, her figure barely illuminated by the weak light.

The woman looked worn, her fiery red hair tied into a rough braid, strands falling messily around her face. Her clothing, once a rich shade of black, had turned into a dirty, faded grey. She exuded a hardened air, one that made Sherry feel uneasy.

"Who are you?" Sherry asked, her throat dry, still trying to grasp what was happening.

"Names don't matter here," the woman said, her voice as rough as her appearance. "But if you must know, I’m Raphael. You? You’re the new prisoner, right?" She surveyed Sherry up and down with a bored expression.

"Sherry. I’m Sherry," she said, trying to control the fear in her voice. "Where am I? Why am I here?" Her mind raced, trying to piece together the situation, but nothing made sense. She had been on her way home. She wasn't supposed to be in some dark, rain-soaked cell.

Raphael let out a dark chuckle, her voice cold and harsh. "You’ve got yourself wrapped up with the wrong people, sweetheart. This isn’t some misunderstanding. This is The Dark Hold—the mafia's personal playground. They don't just kidnap anyone. You’re valuable to someone. They must have a buyer lined up."

Sherry felt her heart race, the words "mafia" and "buyer" echoing in her ears. This couldn’t be real. It was like she had been dropped into some kind of nightmare. "The mafia? No. I don’t know anyone like that," she stammered, backing away from the woman.

Raphael smirked, unimpressed. "You think anyone in here knew they were tangled up in this? Doesn’t matter who you know. Once they decide you're theirs, you're nothing but property. Tradeable, expendable. They don't care about your life, Sherry. They care about profit."

"I don’t belong here! There’s been a mistake. Mr. Jason—" Sherry began, her voice rising in panic.

The smirk on Raphael face faded, replaced by a steely gaze. "Jason? You mean the man who handed you over to them? He’s no stranger to this place. He’s a middleman. Picks out the girls, makes them disappear. You’re just another paycheck for him."

SHERRY'S blood ran cold. Mr. Jason? The friendly old man from the neighborhood? It didn’t make sense. He had been nothing but polite. Her mind reeled, trying to find some other explanation. "No… no, my aunt and uncle—"

"Sold you out," Raphael interrupted with a dark laugh. "Bet you didn’t see that coming. People are crueler than you think. Money has a way of making people turn their backs on the ones they love." Raphael’s voice softened for a moment, a glimmer of something bitter and broken hidden beneath the rough exterior.

"They wouldn’t…" Sherry whispered, her voice cracking. The disbelief hit her like a wave, shaking her to her core. Could her own trusted people who worked for her mother have done this? Sold her to the mafia for a quick payout? The notion clawed at her heart, the betrayal ripping her apart from the inside.

Raphael gave a dismissive wave, retreating back to her corner of the cell. "Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. Won't change a thing. You’re stuck here. Welcome to the underworld."

Tears prickled at Sherry’s eyes, but she forced them back. Crying wouldn’t help her now. She had to stay strong, had to find a way out of this nightmare. But how? She glanced at Raphael, whose eyes were already closed, as if she had accepted her fate long ago.

"Miss Raphael," Penny called out softly, stepping closer to her cellmate. "There has to be a way out. Isn’t there?"

Raphael,s laugh echoed in the small cell, loud and mocking. "A way out? You’re dreaming. This isn’t a movie, kid. There’s no secret escape tunnel. The only way out is the way you came in—through the front door. But you’d have to get past them first. And trust me, no one ever does."

Sherry's resolve hardened. She didn’t care what Raphael said. She wasn’t going to stay here, waiting to be sold off like some piece of property. She would find a way.

Hours passed, or maybe days—it was hard to tell in the darkness. Sherry couldn’t sleep. The sound of rain outside had quieted, replaced by an eerie silence that was occasionally broken by the distant sound of screams. Each cry sent a shiver down her spine.

“What’s happening out there?” Sherry asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Raphael didn’t bother opening her eyes. “Punishments. That’s what happens when someone tries to fight back. It’s the mafia’s way of keeping everyone in line. Pain speaks louder than words.”

sherry swallowed hard, fear gripping her. But still, she refused to give in to it. She couldn’t. Not if she wanted to survive this.

"You will wish you hadn't," Raphael's voice floated back through the darkness, the threat lingering like smoke in the cold air.

But Sherry was different. She wasn't going to stay and become a part of this twisted underworld. And if Mr. Jason had a hand in her being here, then she was going to make sure he paid. First, she would escape. Then, she would expose him—and anyone else involved in this twisted game.

The mafia thought they had trapped her, that she was just another helpless victim. They were wrong. sherry might have been caged for now, but she wasn’t broken. Not yet.

As the night dragged on, her mind raced, formulating a plan. She had to be smart and careful. There were people outside these walls who needed to know the truth. If she could just find a way to contact them… she knew her uncle and aunt couldn't have been involved.

But first, she had to survive.