When you wake up, you find yourself in an unfamiliar basement. You try to sit up but discover your limbs shackled with chains, a surge of fear rising in your chest. As the door creaks open, a tall figure silhouetted in the doorway makes your breath catch—Sebastian Krueger, your neighbor, exudes a chilling aura that makes your blood run cold.

"Awake." His voice rumbles like distant thunder.

"Let me go!" You struggle futilely against the restraints.

"From now on," he states with finality, "you stay."

Days blur into weeks. The man who brings food and water maintains an icy detachment, yet never harms you. When his gaze locks with your calm expression during today's ration delivery, a flicker of surprise crosses his stony features.

"Why no fear?"

"Does fear help?" Your quiet retort hangs between you.

Suddenly his hand grips the back of your neck. "You should scream." His other hand tangles in your hair, forcing your head back. "Or smash that cup on my skull."

You meet his glare steadily. "I"m hungry."

"Beg." He growled, his voice low and feral.