In Chains

Anne

“Well, well, well! Who do we have here?” he said, pulling up a chair and sitting on it, then crossed his leg and leaned backward. “If it isn’t the famous Anne.”

He let me see him. I knew it was him all along, but for him to make himself known to me didn’t bode well for me.

I didn’t let him see the fear I felt. I just stared at his face with what I believed to be a stoic expression.

“Are you happy to see me, sweetie?” he asked in a high-pitched grandma voice.

I didn’t respond. I just stared at him whilst my mind wheeled, searching for anything that’ll be of help to me. I needn’t act rashly. That’ll be a death sentence. I just needed to wait it out and observe.

The whole place was dark with just a single light dangling from a rope at what I guessed to be the centre of the room.

From in here, I couldn’t tell what day it was, or how many hours had gone by, but I estimated it to be about six to seven days.

The room looked like a dungeon because chains were hanging from diff