Cage

“You don’t have to be afraid, Lia,” Vincent’s voice slithered through the cold air, his tone unnervingly calm. He stood across the room, leaning casually against the wall, his arms folded as if he were merely discussing a minor inconvenience. “You’re going to be fine here. We’re going to get along just fine.”

Lia’s breath hitched, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Every inch of her body screamed in protest at his words. She looked up at him from where she sat on the bed, her hands clenched into fists, fighting the wave of terror threatening to overwhelm her.

“No,” she whispered hoarsely, shaking her head. “No, this isn’t right. You can’t—this is… insane!”

Vincent’s lips curled into a slow smile. “Oh, I can,” he said softly, his gaze never wavering. “I’ve already made my decision. You belong to me now, Lia. It’s been decided.”

Lia’s heart pounded in her ears as the walls around her seemed to close in. This was a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. The room felt smaller with every breath she took, the air thick with a pressure she could barely understand. She fought the rising panic, fighting for control, even as her body trembled in response to his words.

“No,” she repeated, her voice stronger now despite the knot in her throat. “You can’t keep me here. I won’t let you.”

Vincent’s eyes darkened slightly, his amusement fading just enough to show a glimmer of something more dangerous. “You don’t have a choice in the matter, Lia,” he said, his voice low and silky. “This is happening whether you like it or not. You’re mine now—body, mind, and soul. And I’m not going to let you go.”

Lia pushed herself up from the bed, her knees shaking beneath her. “I won’t let you do this to me,” she spat, her words filled with a defiance she wasn’t sure she still had in her. “I’ll escape. I’ll find a way out.”

Vincent’s eyes flashed with something dark, something predatory. He took a slow step toward her, the movement almost too smooth, too calculated. “Escape? How, Lia? There’s nowhere for you to go. No one can help you. You’re mine. And you will be here, in my care, for as long as I want.”

Her body flinched at the word “care,” the idea of his twisted version of it suffocating her. She had no strength to fight him physically—her limbs still felt like lead, and the drugs had clouded her mind—but her spirit, her resolve, would not be crushed so easily. She wouldn’t let him win, no matter how much he tried to break her.

“I’ll never be yours,” Lia spat, her voice quivering but resolute. “I don’t care what you say or what you do. I will find a way out. I will make you regret this.”

Vincent chuckled darkly, shaking his head as if she were nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum. “You’re strong, I’ll give you that. But strength won’t get you anywhere here, Lia. I’m the one in control now. You’re trapped. You don’t even know where you are, and you think you can outsmart me? You can’t. You’re mine. And you’ll do as I say.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away furiously. She wouldn’t let him see her break. She wouldn’t let him see her fear. Even if she was terrified, even if she didn’t know what would happen to her in this cold, oppressive place, she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her surrender.

“I’ll fight you,” she whispered through gritted teeth, a fierce determination rising within her chest. “I’ll never stop fighting.”

Vincent studied her for a long moment, and something unreadable flashed in his eyes. Then, to her surprise, he smiled—a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, one that felt almost pitying.

“You can fight all you want,” he said quietly. “But in the end, you’ll learn that resistance is futile. You’ll see. I’ll make sure you see. And when you do, you’ll understand that there’s no way out of this. There’s no one to help you.”

Lia’s breath hitched as the enormity of his words settled in. Her chest tightened with anxiety, the weight of his control over her sinking in. Was this really her life now? Was there really no escape from this? No one could hear her screams. No one would come for her. The thought made her stomach twist.

But still, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking, I have to keep fighting. I have to find a way out.

Her gaze shot back to him, a flash of anger flaring in her eyes. She wasn’t going to let him have this victory, not without a fight.

Vincent turned to leave, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room. “Get some rest, Lia. You’ll need it. I’ll check on you later.”

Lia didn’t move as he stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that made her breath catch in her throat. She was alone again. Alone in the darkness.

Her heart beat loudly in her chest, the desperation of the situation overwhelming her. But even in the face of her fear, she still clung to one truth—she couldn’t give up. She wouldn’t give up. Not now, not ever.

She sat on the edge of the bed, trembling but determined. The tears she had been holding back finally fell, but they weren’t just tears of fear. They were tears of anger, of frustration, of heartbreak. She felt so small in this grand, dark house. So utterly powerless.

But as her sobs echoed in the silence, she whispered to herself through ragged breaths, “I will escape. I will find a way. I won’t be his.”

Lia lay awake in the small, dimly lit room, the sound of her breathing the only noise that filled the space. The bed felt cold beneath her, the sheets a stark reminder of how trapped she truly was. But even in the silence, her mind raced—searching for anything, any thread she could pull, any way she could communicate with the outside world.

She knew Vincent was watching her every move, always just a shadow in the corner of her life, making sure she didn’t have a moment of privacy. He had already made it clear how much control he had over her, but Lia refused to let that be the end. She couldn’t just lie here and wait for him to make his next move. No, she needed to fight back, even if it was in small, subtle ways.

It started with the simplest things. During the rare moments when Vincent wasn’t around—when he’d step out of the room to handle some “business” or meet with people she didn’t know—Lia began to make small marks on the walls.

At first, they were just scratches, as if she were absentmindedly tapping the surface with her nails. But then, the scratches became patterns—small, deliberate etchings that she could use to count the days, the hours. It wasn’t much, but it was a way to hold onto the idea of time.

And then there were the windows. Every time Vincent brought her meals or delivered supplies, she noticed the windows had bars over them. There was no way to escape through them, but sometimes, if she pressed her face against the cold glass, she could see faint shapes moving outside—shadows of life, of the world she once knew. Someone must be out there, she thought, gripping the bars with her hands, imagining the freedom that lay just beyond her reach.

But even these small acts of rebellion were met with swift consequences. When she tried to scrape deeper into the walls, Vincent noticed. His eyes narrowed with suspicion when he saw the small marks on the surface of the room, and for a moment, she thought she’d lost her chance.

He didn’t say anything directly, but the next time he came to see her, he spoke in that calm, chilling tone that made her skin crawl. “I hope you know that your little games won’t work, Lia. I see everything. Don’t think you can hide anything from me.”

She kept her gaze steady, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I’m not hiding anything.”

Vincent smirked, his eyes glinting with a knowing darkness. “Oh, but you are. I know exactly what you’re trying to do. And believe me, Lia, you won’t get far. I’ll make sure of it.”

The fear that had been gnawing at her chest grew heavier, but she refused to let him see it. Instead, she turned her gaze away, focusing on the small marks on the walls—reminders of the time that still existed beyond the prison he had placed her in.

But even with his eyes on her, even with his every move keeping her isolated, Lia was far from defeated. She began to memorize the routines—when he would bring her food, when he would check in on her, when he was least attentive. And during those precious moments, she used everything she had to stay connected, to try and send out signals of her own.

Once, when he brought her a glass of water, she noticed he had left a small pen on the tray. She picked it up quickly, writing a single word on the napkin beneath it. It was subtle—so subtle that, when Vincent came back later to check on her, she simply tucked the napkin under the plate, careful not to give anything away.

“Who are you writing to?” Vincent had asked casually, but there was an edge to his voice that suggested he wasn’t just making small talk.

“No one,” she had replied, her voice flat. “Just thinking.”

Vincent had stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. But eventually, he nodded, turning to leave. “Don’t forget, Lia. You’re mine now. I’ll always know what you’re up to.”

Lia watched him leave, the door closing softly behind him. Her heart hammered in her chest. She didn’t know if anyone would ever see her message, but she had to try. She couldn’t just give up. Not now. Not ever.

Days passed in the same suffocating cycle. She had no idea what Vincent did outside of these walls, but every time he came near her, she felt his control closing tighter around her. He was always watching, always one step ahead.

But there were moments—fleeting, fragile moments—when she thought she might be getting through. When the guards or staff would come to clean the room, she’d leave small, hidden signs—things that could be interpreted if someone was looking hard enough.

She placed the message under the rug once, hidden beneath the corner, hoping someone would find it. She hid another note in the fabric of the pillowcase, barely stitched, but just visible enough to be found if someone bothered to check.

But time passed, and Vincent seemed to grow more vigilant. He started visiting her more frequently, inspecting the room with a scrutinizing eye, looking for anything out of place. Lia could feel the tightening of the walls around her, his presence constantly lingering in the corners of her mind. His shadow seemed to grow longer with each passing day, his control slipping into every part of her existence.

She started to wonder if there was a way she could use the small cracks she’d made—small movements, subtle signs, things she could leave behind—but she had no idea what kind of time she had left. Would someone come for her? Or had she already lost her chance? The isolation gnawed at her resolve, but she still refused to give in. She wouldn’t let him win.

In the dead of night, as Vincent’s footsteps faded away and she was left alone in the darkness once more, Lia closed her eyes and whispered to herself.

“I will get out. I won’t let him break me. I won’t give up.”

It was the only thing she had left. Hope. And she would hold onto it with every ounce of strength she had left. Even if she was alone. Even if she was isolated.