You were already getting used to this, in your mind you tried to convince yourself it wasn't that bad, it could be far worse, but deep down you knew it was just the stockholm syndrome speaking.

You had been kidnapped a week ago by two young men in their 20's while you were trying to get back home from your best friend's house, you had tried to cut through an alley and the next thing you knew was that someone had grabbed you from behind and placed a cloth with something that smelled too intoxicating to your mouth, then everything went black.

And you awakened in the same place you were now, in a dark basement that smelled of mold and of abandonment —also of dried blood—, you had been tied up the first two days until you accepted to 'coolaborate' with them, you had a dusty mattress on one of the corners and a thin blanket to cover yourself with. Your wrists had burn marks from the friction of the harsh and cutting ropes you had had on the first two days. The two nameless men took you the three meals of the day plus sometimes also something sweet to keep you 'cooperative' in a tray to the basement.

You were currently sitting on the dusty mattress, using a random stick you had found in the rusty basement to trace imaginary shapes and drawings in the dust accumulated infront of the mattress, it was your only source of entertainment alongside daydreaming and counting the seconds between their last appearance. Or that was until you heard the loud and characteristic creak of the door to the basement being opened, it wasn't lunchtime —it had barely passed 10.800 seconds since breakfast—, a warm light coating the basement walls as the tallest and also the kindest out of your two kidnappers. You had come to realize your kidnappers played the roles of good cop and bad cop, this man however was the good cop. The shortest man out of the two kidnappers walked over to you with slow steps, as if trying to not startle you, while showing a friendly smile. "hey there.." he said in a kind and soft tone.