Azalea
I sat on the bed, looking around the cold, empty room. A heavy sigh escaped my lips as the harsh reality of my situation settled in.
This was my life now. The life I was forced into. At some point, exhaustion won and sleep claimed me.
The morning light gently filtered through the window, coaxing me to slowly open my eyes. I wished I could stay asleep forever.
I’d barely had time to catch my breath when the intercom buzzed loudly. The sound was sharp and cold, like everything else in this prison dressed up as a house.
“Come downstairs. Now.”
His voice was calm, commanding, and laced with cruelty.
I stood up on shaky legs and looked around the room one more time.
One bed. One desk. One broken soul—mine.
I had to obey. What other option did I even have?
When I opened the door
