Chapter 1: Tragedy
A sharp gasp tore through Eleanor Whitmore's throat as she jolted awake, her body wracked with pain.
"Who are you? Why are you doing this? Leave me alone!" Her voice rang out into the oppressive darkness, her words swallowed by the void. No response came... only silence, thick and suffocating.
Her breathing came in ragged bursts. She tugged at her arms, but resistance bit into her wrists. Rope. The rough fibers scraped against her skin as she twisted. Her legs, too, were bound, rendering her completely vulnerable. The cold air against her bare skin sent shivers of fear through her already trembling frame.
Panic clawed at her chest. The scent of blood hung in the air, metallic and sickening. A dull, throbbing pain radiated from every inch of her body, like she had been trampled beneath something unrelenting. She swallowed hard, tasting the coppery tang on her tongue.
Her mind spun, desperately grasping for clarity. What happened? How did she get here?
Despite being the daughter of one of the wealthiest families in the city, she had never harmed anyone. She was never arrogant, disrespectful, or the type to provoke others.
Then, it hit her like a crashing wave.
She had left the office early that day to meet her sister at a party. As she stepped out of the elevator into the dimly lit underground parking lot, a shadow loomed behind her. Before she could react, a cloth was pressed against her face.
She struggled, her heart pounding in terror, but within moments, darkness consumed her.
A sob bubbled up in her throat, but she forced it down. Now was not the time to break. She had to think. She had to get out. Her fingers twitched against the bindings, searching for any weakness in the knots.
Sweat trickled down her forehead. She had to focus. If she panicked, she would lose the small reserves of strength she had left. Her body was weak, hunger gnawed at her stomach, throat burned with thirst, exhaustion pulling at her limbs, but she refused to let it win.