Lisa’s POV
The room was spinning when I came to.
At first, I thought I was dreaming — my limbs heavy, tongue dry, breath coming in short, erratic gasps. My eyes blinked open slowly to the pulse of an overhead bulb flickering in and out of life.
Then realisation crept in… The walls were bare. Cracked concrete. The scent of rust and mold filled the air, laced with something else, like gasoline.
I tried to move. That was when I realized my wrists were bound behind me. A sharp ache radiated from my shoulders, and the back of my neck felt bruised, as if I’d been yanked like a rag doll. My knees knocked together. The metal chair beneath me groaned at the shift.
Panic came slow, but steady. Like a tide rising.
Then the cold metal pressed against my temple, and I couldn’t tell if the shaking
