Day: ???
I opened my eyes again.
I followed what had essentially become a routine. I cleaned myself up to the best of my capabilities.
I don't know how many days it has been.
I lost track of time. There was no way to tell it in here. For all I know, it could be day fourteen… or day forty.
But in that time, I have started to notice things — things I couldn't before, back when I was too anxious, too busy hyperventilating to think clearly.
After about a week or so, I noticed a pattern.
Whenever I went to sleep and woke up again, I was clean-shaven and wearing what were essentially new prison clothes.
He was the same.
Clean. Reset.
Like whatever happened in between didn't exist.
I asked him if he knew anything about it.
He just shrugged.
But the way he looked at me for a moment… it didn't feel like he was as clueless as he pretended to be.
The food…
The food seemed to be laced with some kind of medicine.
Something that was messing with my mind.
With my memory.
And the scary part was—
It was working.
I tried to picture my daughter again.
Hazel eyes.
Black hair.
A slightly chubby face.
No.
That wasn't right.
Or maybe it was.
I couldn't tell anymore.
Her face blurred the harder I tried to hold onto it, like it didn't want to stay.
Like it didn't belong to me.
My chest tightened.
I tried again.
Nothing.
Just fragments.
I stopped.
Now… I had even started accepting the name he gave me.
Nathaniel.
It felt easier than fighting something I couldn't remember.
Because of all this, I was able to piece something together.
Whoever kidnapped us… didn't want to kill us.
They wanted to break us.
From the inside out.
Either the kidnapper — the one I had started calling the Stalker — was a sadistic bastard…
Or this was something personal.
A grudge.
At first, I leaned toward the sadistic theory.
After all, I was just a normal office worker.
At least…
I think I was.
The thought lingered longer than it should have.
There shouldn't be any reason for someone to go this far for me.
And even if there was…
It's not like I could remember it.
Every time I tried to dig deeper into my memories, everything turned blurry.
Hazy.
Like something was pushing me away from it.
So I stopped trying.
It wasn't like forcing it would make anything clearer.
From everything I've observed…
From everything I've felt…
I've come to one conclusion.
Whoever put us here…
Doesn't want to kill us.
They want to break us.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
For some sick reason.
Behind me, I could feel the old man's gaze again.
Silent.
Watching.
As if he was waiting for me to reach that conclusion.
But none of that changes my objective.
I need to escape.
And I need to do it while I'm still… myself.