Time becomes meaningless when you're chained to a wall in a psychopath's basement. Hours stretch into eternities. Minutes collapse into seconds. My only markers are Lilly's visits and the gnawing pangs of hunger that twist my stomach into knots.

I stare at the ceiling, counting the exposed pipes for what must be the hundredth time. Boredom has become its own kind of torture.

Sleep evaded me last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Evelyn's fucked up hands, heard Rose's final breaths. I tossed and turned on these silk sheets, a luxury that feels like mockery in this concrete prison.

The sound of a door opening upstairs jolts me from my thoughts. Footsteps, then a pause. A heavy sigh filters down through the floorboards.

My heart rate quickens. Lilly's coming. My captor. My girlfriend. My nightmare.

The basement door creaks open, and there she stands, silhouetted at the top of the stairs. Perfect ponytail. Perfect posture. Perfect mask of sanity covering the monster beneath.

"I'm sorry, baby," she calls down, her voice honey-sweet as she descends. "I meant to be here with you last night, but life got busy."

I lick my cracked lips, suddenly aware of how parched my throat feels. Has it only been twelve hours since I last saw her? Without windows or clocks, time stretches like taffy, making each minute of isolation feel like an eternity.

"Could I have some water?" I ask, hating the desperation in my voice.

Lilly hurries down the stairs, clutching two large bottles of water against her chest. My eyes lock onto them like they're sacred objects. My throat constricts painfully, reminding me just how desperate I am.

"I'm so sorry," she says, setting them down beside the bed. There's something different in her voice, a genuine strain that cuts through her usual calculated composure. "I didn't mean to leave you thirsty."

I grab the first bottle, twisting the cap off with shaking hands. The water feels like salvation pouring down my throat. I gulp greedily, not caring as rivulets escape the corners of my mouth and drip down my chin.

Lilly perches on the edge of the bed, her expression shifting back to that controlled mask I've come to recognize. The momentary concern vanishes like it was never there.

"My mom called Aunty Lara yesterday," she says casually, as if discussing the weather rather than whatever criminal connections her family has. "We've moved into the casino for safety."

"The Encore?" I ask, wiping water from my chin with the back of my hand.

She tilts her head, brow furrowing slightly. "What?"

"Isn't the casino called the Encore?" I clarify, remembering the massive resort that dominated the Boston skyline in my original world.

"No, it's called La Reale," Lilly corrects me, her tone suggesting I should know this. "Has been since it opened."

I blink, absorbing this information. Another difference between this reality and mine. The name doesn't matter, but it's these little inconsistencies that remind me how far from home I truly am. I push the thought aside, there are more pressing concerns than casino branding.

"Why a casino?" I ask, screwing the cap back on the now-empty water bottle.

"Because Lara says she can protect us there," Lilly explains, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my forehead. I fight the urge to flinch away from her touch. "It's her boss's territory. Nobody crosses her there."

"Protect you from what?" The question slips out before I can stop it.

Lilly stifles a laugh, her eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "From the kidnapper, of course." She leans closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The mysterious person who took Evelyn and now you."

The irony is so thick I could choke on it. I stare at her, unable to form words as the absurdity of the situation crashes over me. She's hiding her family in a casino to protect them from herself.

"You're insane," I whisper, the words escaping before I can think better of it.

Her smile doesn't falter, but something dangerous flashes in her eyes. "That's not a very nice thing to say to your girlfriend, Seth."

She leans in closer, her lips suddenly pressing against my neck. I feel her teeth graze my skin, a gentle nibble that sends unwanted shivers down my spine. Her tongue follows, tracing a warm path up to my ear as her hand slides possessively across my chest.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice raspy from thirst despite the water I just drank. My stomach growls loudly, reminding me of more basic needs. "Could I have something to eat? I'm starving."

Lilly pulls back abruptly, her eyes widening with genuine surprise. "Oh my god," she says, pressing a hand to her mouth. "Of course! I didn't even think…" She shakes her head, looking genuinely distressed. "I'm such an idiot. You must be famished."

The sudden shift in her demeanor throws me off balance. One moment she's the predator, the next she's the concerned girlfriend.

"I'll go make you a big breakfast, okay?" she says, already standing up. "Eggs, bacon, pancakes, the works." Her ponytail swings as she moves toward the stairs with newfound purpose.

"Wait," I call out, the question burning inside me. "Is Chris safe? Is he okay?"

She pauses at the bottom step, turning back to face me. A smile spreads across her face, gentle and almost genuine.

"Yes, he's perfectly safe," she assures me. "He's staying at the casino with my parents. They're watching him around the clock." Her expression softens further. "He misses you, though. Keeps asking when you're coming home."

The thought of Chris wondering where I've gone makes my chest ache. Is he scared? Does he think I abandoned him?

I watch her go, the chain around my ankle suddenly feeling heavier than before. The basement falls silent again, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the hollow ache in my stomach.

True to her word, Lilly returns about twenty minutes later, carefully balancing two plates as she descends the stairs. The smell hits me before I can even see it. My stomach roars in response. I've never smelled anything so good in my life.

She sets one plate in front of me, and I notice there's no silverware. Just food piled high on the ceramic dish.

"I need you to eat with your hands, okay?" she says, her voice gentle but firm. "I can't risk giving you utensils."

I nod, understanding the implication. A fork could become a weapon in the hands of a desperate captive. At this point, I'm too hungry to care about table manners anyway.

"I had to sneak out just to come here today," she adds, settling cross-legged on the bed beside me.

"You did?" I ask, already tearing into a strip of bacon with my fingers.

"Yeah," she sighs, watching me eat with a strange mixture of affection and calculation in her eyes.

We eat together in relative silence. I devour my food like a starving animal, barely tasting it as I shove it into my mouth. Lilly picks at hers more delicately, taking small, measured bites between glances at me.

"I'll come back tonight with some books and stuff for you," she says as I'm licking syrup from my fingers. "I can grab Rose's Switch if you want?"

The casual offer hits me like a punch to the gut. Rose's Switch. Rose, whom Lilly orchestrated the murder of. Her own twin sister. And now she's offering me her dead sister's gaming console like it's nothing more than a borrowed toy.

The reality of my situation crashes down on me all at once. This isn't a temporary arrangement. There's no rescue coming. I'm going to be in this basement for a very, very long time.

I swallow hard, forcing down the last bite of food. "That'd be nice," I say, my voice hollow even to my own ears.

Lilly gathers up our empty plates, stacking them on top of each other. "Let me go grab the other food I was gonna leave here for you," she says, her ponytail swinging as she turns toward the stairs.

She hurries up the wooden steps, her footfalls creaking above me. I glance down and realize something, she took her plate but left mine behind. Ceramic. Breakable.

A scene from Breaking Bad flashes through my mind. That episode where the guy smashed his plate and used a shard to try to kill Walter White. While it didn’t end well for that guy, it makes me wonder.

I stare at the empty plate, a potential weapon sitting right there on my lap.

‘Should I? Could I?’

My heart pounds against my ribs as I consider it. One sharp edge against her throat, and I could force her to unchain me. I could escape this nightmare.

But what if I fail? What if she overpowers me? What she'd do to me then...

I don't have time to think it through. I hear her moving around upstairs, getting closer to the basement door. In a split-second decision, I throw myself sideways off the bed, landing hard on the plate with a sickening crack. It’s the only way to not make her suspicious.

The ceramic shatters beneath me, shards digging into my arm. Pain lances through my skin, hot and immediate. I cry out, the sound not entirely fake as blood wells up from several small cuts.

"Oh god, oh fuck," I moan, making sure my voice carries upstairs. I quickly slide my hand under my body, fingers closing around a medium-sized shard with a wicked point. I slip it beneath my thigh just as I hear footsteps racing toward the basement door.

"Seth? What was that?" Lilly's voice calls out, panic evident in her tone. The basement door flies open, and she comes rushing down the stairs, taking them two at a time. "Seth!"

I roll onto my back, grimacing as I reveal my bloodied arm. "I fell," I gasp, trying to look appropriately pained and embarrassed. "I was trying to get comfortable, and I forgot about the plate."

"Seth, you're bleeding!" Lilly gasps, rushing toward me but stopping just short, her eyes suddenly drawn to the shattered ceramic scattered around me.

I watch as her entire demeanor transforms before my eyes. The concern vanishes from her face like someone flipped a switch. Her shoulders stiffen, her jaw tightens, and those green eyes turn to ice as she surveys the broken plate fragments.

"Are you trying to Breaking Bad me, Seth?" Her voice drops to a dangerous whisper, all pretense of the caring girlfriend completely gone.

My heart practically stops. She knows. Of course, she knows. We watched the show together last month.

‘I feel like a fucking idiot.’

"What? No! Of course not!" I stammer, trying to sound genuinely confused while my fingers clench tighter around the shard hidden beneath my thigh. "I just fell. I swear."

She doesn't move any closer, maintaining that careful distance as her eyes methodically scan each piece of the broken plate, calculating, assessing the threat. The silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating.

"Roll over," she commands suddenly.

"What?"

"Roll. Over." Each word is clipped, precise, and deadly serious. "Show me your hands and what's under you."

I swallow hard, my mind racing for a way out of this. "Lilly, I'm hurt. I need help with these cuts…"

"NOW!" she shouts, the sudden volume making me flinch.

I have seconds to decide. Use the shard now? Try to lunge at her? But she's too far away, watching me like a hawk, already suspicious. The chain around my ankle would limit my reach. I'd never make it.

With trembling hands, I slowly reveal the ceramic shard clutched in my palm.

"Drop it," she commands, her voice as sharp as the ceramic in my hand.

My fingers uncurl instantly, the shard falling to the concrete floor with a small clink. Self-preservation kicks in hard as I realize how badly I've miscalculated.

"Go to the corner," she orders, pointing to the far wall. "Now."

I scramble backward, dragging myself along the floor until my back hits cold concrete. The chain scrapes against the floor, marking my path like a snake's trail. Blood trickles down my arm, warm and sticky between my fingers.

Lilly approaches cautiously, her eyes never leaving mine as she crouches to pick up the shard I dropped. She turns it over in her hand, examining the jagged edge with unsettling fascination. A small, manic chuckle escapes her lips, sending ice through my veins.

"What exactly were you planning to do with this?" she asks, running her finger along the edge. "Cut my throat?" She holds it up to the light, admiring its wicked point. "It might have worked, you know. If you weren't so painfully predictable."

She moves around the basement, methodically collecting every piece of broken ceramic, placing them in a small trash bag she pulls from her pocket. I notice she never sets down the particular shard I had clutched in my hand, keeping it separate from the others.

The silence is suffocating as she works, broken only by the occasional clink of ceramic and the rasp of my shallow breathing. My cuts sting, forgotten in the greater fear of what she might do next.

After what feels like an eternity, she finishes her cleanup and sits on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside her.

"Come closer, baby," she says, her voice suddenly soft, almost tender. The abrupt shift in her demeanor is more terrifying than her anger.

I hesitate, my back pressing harder against the wall.

"I said, Come here." The tenderness vanishes, replaced by steel.

I push myself up, legs shaking as I hobble toward her. The bed dips under my weight as I sit beside her, maintaining as much distance as I dare.

"I'm so sorry, Lilly," I whisper, my voice cracking. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Tears fill my eyes, blurring my vision. Not just from fear or pain, but from the crushing realization of my situation. This isn't just my girlfriend gone mad. This is a woman who tortured someone for weeks. What might she do to me for this betrayal?

"Shh," she soothes, reaching out to wipe a tear from my cheek. The shard is still clutched in her other hand, a silent reminder of my failed escape attempt. "I understand. You were scared. Desperate."

Lilly pats her thigh, her voice shifting to a maternal tone. "Come here. Rest your head on my lap."

I hesitate, weighing my options, but the cold gleam in her eyes leaves no room for disobedience. Slowly, I shift my position, laying my head on her lap like a condemned man on the executioner's block. My entire body trembles, each muscle taut with anticipation of punishment.

"Relax," she whispers, stroking my hair with her free hand. "Everything's going to be okay."

Her fingers are gentle and loving as they card through my hair. The familiar gesture feels like a mockery now, a cruel parody of intimacy.

"You know I love you, right?" she asks, her voice soft as velvet.

"Yeah," I manage to croak out, my throat tight with fear.

The smile that spreads across her face chills me to the bone, serene, almost peaceful. Without another word, she drives the ceramic shard downward with terrifying precision.

I don't even have time to flinch before the jagged edge plunges into my left eye.

My scream echoes off the concrete walls as my world explodes into crimson agony. I thrash wildly, my hands clawing at her arms, my body bucking against the mattress. Blood cascades down my face, hot and thick, as she twists the shard deeper.

"Stop! PLEASE!" I shriek, my voice shattering into something inhuman as she finally withdraws the makeshift weapon.

I roll off her lap, collapsing onto the floor in a heap of pain and terror. My hands cover my ruined eye socket, blood seeping between my fingers as I curl into myself. Each breath comes as a ragged sob.

"You wanted to kill me!" Lilly shouts, looming over me as blood pours down my face. Her voice cuts through my agony like a serrated knife. "You actually thought you could murder me with a fucking plate shard and I'd just let that go?"

I can't focus, can't think through the white-hot pain radiating from my eye socket. The world has narrowed to a crimson tunnel of agony.

"You should be grateful," she hisses, her face contorted with rage. "You are LUCKY I'm only doing this much."

The bloody shard flies across the room as she hurls it away, the ceramic clattering against concrete somewhere in the darkness. I press my palm harder against my ruined eye, feeling hot blood pulse between my fingers with each heartbeat.

Lilly drops to her knees beside me, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at her with my remaining eye. Her face swims in and out of focus as shock begins to set in.

"I love you so much, Seth," she says, her voice suddenly softer, almost breaking. "Why are you making me hurt you like this? Why can't you just accept how things are now?"

I'm beyond rational thought, beyond anything but primal terror and pain. My body convulses with sobs as I curl tighter into myself, trying to escape the nightmare that's become my reality.

"I'm sorry," I choke out between screams, the words tumbling from my lips in desperate repetition. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

Blood soaks through my shirt, pools beneath me on the concrete floor. The metallic smell fills my nostrils, making me gag.

"Please," I beg. "No more. Please, I'm sorry, I won't try again, I swear."

Lilly's hand strokes my hair, the gentleness of her touch a horrifying contrast to what she's just done. "Shh, I know you're sorry. I forgive you."

She gathers me into her arms, cradling me against her chest as my blood soaks through her clothes. My body shakes uncontrollably, the pain unlike anything I've ever experienced.

"You really made a mess, didn't you?" she says, her voice oddly tender as she surveys the blood pooling around us.

I can only whimper in response, the agony radiating from my obliterated eye making coherent speech impossible. My remaining eye blurs with tears as I clutch desperately at her shirt, anchoring myself to something solid as waves of pain threaten to pull me under.

"Shh, I've got you," Lilly whispers, pressing her lips against my forehead. "Don't worry. I'll clean you up, make you good as new." Her fingers stroke my hair, gentle and soothing despite the horror she's just inflicted.

"That's what a good wife would do for her husband, isn't it?"