She woke up choking on darkness.
At first, Masha thought she was blind. She blinked several times, panic tightening in her chest, until her eyes adjusted and the shape of iron bars slowly came into focus. They were inches from her face. Cold. Rusted. Real.
She tried to move.
Chains answered her.
A sharp sound echoed through the room, metal scraping against metal, and her breath shattered into short, terrified gasps. Her wrists were bound behind her, her ankles secured to the floor. The air smelled wrong—damp stone, old blood, and something sour that made her stomach twist.
This wasn't a nightmare.
Her throat burned. She swallowed, but there was no relief. Her lips felt cracked, swollen. When she tried to scream, only a hoarse sound escaped her mouth.
"Hello?" she whispered instead.
The word died in the dark.
The room was small, maybe underground. No windows. No light except for a weak bulb flickering somewhere above, as if it was tired of staying alive. Shadows clung to the corners like they were hiding something.
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.
Think. Don't panic. Think.
The last thing she remembered was walking home from school. It was late. She had taken the shorter route—the one everyone warned her about. A hand over her mouth. The smell of something sweet and chemical. Then nothing.
Masha squeezed her eyes shut.
When she opened them again, she noticed the plate.
It sat just outside the bars, as if deliberately placed where she could see it but not reach it. On it were two slices of dry bread and a plastic cup half-filled with water.
Her stomach clenched painfully.
She hadn't realized how hungry she was until that moment. Hunger crashed into her like a wave, sharp and humiliating. She pressed her back against the cold wall and stared at the food, her throat tightening with something that felt dangerously close to tears.
She didn't know how long she had been there.
Hours? A day?
Time felt wrong in the dark.
Footsteps echoed above her suddenly.
Masha froze.
Heavy steps. Unhurried. Someone was coming.
Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure whoever it was could hear it. She pressed her lips together, forcing herself to stay silent, every muscle in her body trembling.
The footsteps stopped.
Keys jingled.
The bulb flickered brighter for a moment, then steadied.
A shadow passed in front of her cage.
Masha lowered her head immediately, her hair falling forward to hide her face. She focused on breathing—slow, shallow breaths, like she had learned to do whenever fear tried to swallow her whole.
The cage door did not open.
The footsteps moved away.
Only then did she realize she had been holding her breath.
Minutes passed. Or maybe hours.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled her into a thin, restless sleep.
When she woke again, the plate was closer.
The bread was gone.
Only the cup of water remained, pushed right up against the bars.
Confusion stirred through her fear.
She hadn't eaten.
So who did?
She leaned forward as far as the chains allowed and peered into the darkness beside her cage.
That was when she heard it.
A low, rough laugh.
"You stare at food like it's about to run away."
Masha flinched violently, a small cry escaping her before she could stop it.
Her eyes darted to the side.
Another cage sat a few feet away from hers, partially hidden by shadow. She hadn't seen it before. Hadn't wanted to.
A figure shifted inside.
"I didn't mean to scare you," the voice said, though there was no apology in it. "Relax. If I wanted you dead, you'd already be gone."
Her fingers curled uselessly against the chains.
"W-who are you?" she whispered.
The figure leaned closer to the bars. She could just make out his face now—sharp features, messy dark hair, eyes that reflected the dim light with unsettling calm.
"Does it matter?" he replied. "We're both stuck."
He glanced at the cup of water, then nudged it with his foot until it rolled fully within her reach.
"Drink," he said. "You'll pass out if you don't."
She hesitated.
Every instinct in her screamed not to trust anyone here.
But her throat burned. Her hands shook.
Slowly, carefully, she reached for the cup and drank. The water tasted stale, but it was water. Relief spread through her body despite her fear.
She looked up at him again.
"You… you ate the bread?"
"Yeah." He shrugged. "Didn't think you'd want it after seeing where we are."
A pause.
"I'll give you my next portion."
Her eyes widened.
"Why?"
He studied her for a long moment, his gaze unreadable.
"Because," he said finally, voice low, "this place already takes enough from people."
Silence settled between them, thick and heavy.
Somewhere above, a door slammed.
Masha hugged herself as tightly as the chains allowed.
She didn't know his name.
She didn't know why he was there.
But for the first time since waking up in the dark, she knew one thing with terrifying certainty:
She was not alone.
And neither of them were meant to be there.