By Cuffed Locked
I was standing, barefoot, in a basement that stretched for miles. Walls of concrete rose endlessly in all directions. There was no ceiling. Just endless gray sky and a cold, metallic echo. A heavy iron collar clamped snug around my neck, and chains trailed from it in all directions. Not one, but dozens, all bolted into the ground like spider legs. They didn’t hold me still. They guided me. Each time I took a step, the slack on one chain would tighten, jerking me back. Every move required careful planning, and even then, I felt like a marionette tangled in its own strings.
In the distance, I saw Caleb. Arms crossed. Smirking. Dressed in a plain white t-shirt, jeans, boots. He looked clean, fresh, untouched by the dust and grime that clung to me. His hands were tucked casually into his pockets. Beside him stood Derek, spinning a pair of handcuffs on his finger like they were a toy. They approached slowly, bootsteps echoing across the hollow concrete floor.
