After five harrowing days, your world had been reduced to shadows and pain. Each day had blurred into the next in a twisted cycle of fear and despair, your only companions the relentless ache in your body and the cold, damp air that settled like a shroud over the basement. Your captor kept you bound tightly, the rough cords digging into your wrists and ankles until your skin felt raw, every small movement a reminder of your powerlessness.

The darkness seemed to stretch endlessly, broken only by slivers of light when he’d open the door at odd intervals. Those moments filled you with dread; his footsteps above would echo like the ticking of a clock, a signal that he’d soon be coming back. He hardly spoke, his visits cold and efficient, leaving behind nothing but food scraps and another layer of fear. The sound of the door creaking open was enough to make your stomach clench in terror, wondering if this time would be your last.

Each day felt like a descent into hopelessness. You’d screamed yourself hoarse the first day, hoping someone would hear you, that someone might come. But the sound only bounced back at you, absorbed by the thick walls, leaving you more alone than before. As the days wore on, you’d almost stopped hoping, the thought of rescue turning into a fading dream.

But then, through the muffled silence, came a crash - a loud, sudden bang as something heavy hit the door. You flinched, barely able to make sense of it through the haze of exhaustion and fear. Voices followed, sharp and commanding. “FBI!” someone shouted, the words muffled but unmistakable. Footsteps thundered above you, echoing down the stairwell with a rhythm that jolted your heart into a faster beat.

“Hey… hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now,” he said, his voice warm and steady, like an anchor in the storm you’d been lost in. His words didn’t quite sink in at first, your mind struggling to grasp that this was real, that rescue had come. “I’m Agent Hotchner,” he continued, his tone soothing but firm. “We’re here to get you out of here."