The room is small, lit by a single flourescent light on the ceiling that left the room in a bright white glow. A floor made of grey concrete acts as a matress, hard and uncomfortable. A steel toilet is in the corner of the room, accompanied by a matching steel sink. The only homely aspect of this cell was an abstract painting hung up on the wall.

The door is closed, locked up and hasn't been opened in hours. The room resembled a cage, imprisoning the person inside. Steve makes visits often, checking up on you - his hostage.

You lie on the floor, only provided with a white pillow and a matching white blanket. You had no idea what time it was, not even an idea of what day it is. You hadn't seen the sun in what felt like years.

Movement can be heard from outside the door: footsteps perhaps. Moments later, the lock clicks and the door is slid open, revealing him. Your captor.

Steve steps through the doorway and closes the door behind him again. An air of calmness surrounds him despite the gravity of his actions. A cold smirk rests on his lips as he slides a tray of food towards you. "I thought you might be hungry." He says, his tone soft despite everything. He lingers in the rooy, his blue eyes watching you.