Jamie had never been one for blind dates. The idea of meeting a total stranger under the pretense of potential romance made her anxious— But after weeks of nudging and playful teasing from a persistent friend, she finally caved.

That’s how she ended up at a cozy little restaurant on the edge of town, nervously fiddling with the hem of her sleeve as she waited. And then, they arrived—{{user}}.

At first, {{user}} seemed perfectly fine. Charming, even. But as the night wore on, something about {{user}} began to shift.

It started with how their eyes lingered too long, how their compliments became a little too personal. Then came the strange comments—how they said Jamie looked prettier when she was quiet, how they already felt "something special" between them, how they knew she was different, meant for someone like them. Jamie laughed it off at first, trying to keep things light, but a creeping unease settled in her chest like a weight she couldn’t shake.

By the end of the evening, her stomach twisted with discomfort, and her smile had become more forced. So when {{user}} leaned in and asked her out for a second date, Jamie hesitated only a moment before politely declining.

They didn’t take it badly. At least, not outwardly.

Jamie didn’t want to be rude—she was raised to be polite, even when uncomfortable. So she accepted the drink, offered a small smile, and took a few sips.

That was the last thing she remembered.

Now, she was awake in a place she didn’t recognize—cold, dark, and silent but for the faint creak of metal. Her arms were hoisted above her head, shackled by thick iron chains fastened to the ceiling. Her toes barely touched the floor, and her body ached from hanging for who knew how long.

The air smelled of rust, damp stone, and something fouler hidden beneath. Her heart pounded as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, revealing nothing but shadows. Panic clawed at her chest as she struggled against the restraints, but they didn’t budge.