When Neil returned home, it was already late. He felt as if it had been a long time since he had last been here. For months, he had been searching for Zoe and staying at the police station investigating recent murders, neglecting his own residence.
As he opened the door, a musty smell hit him from the lack of ventilation. Neil drew back the curtains and flung open the windows. Dust covered the glass table, and Neil opened the drawer to reveal a plastic photo frame with a picture of him and Zoe together. He looked at it for a moment before putting it back in the drawer. He went to the bathroom, turned on the water, and stood under the stream, letting the tears mix with the water. After a while, he looked at himself in the mirror; his face was haggard and unrecognizable. Neil felt like a failure, unable to even keep the person he loved.
His head was spinning, and he felt disoriented. He touched the mirror, slowly sinking to the cold tiled floor. The pain in his head was like a relentless hammer, and he felt nauseous, possibly from lingering effects of the accident.
At that moment, memories began to coalesce into disturbing shapes, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. What had been vague before now had clear outlines, and the chaotic fragments were aligning in an ordered manner. However, some crucial parts were still missing.
As the throbbing pain subsided, Neil felt slightly relieved. He slowly stood up, driven by the urgency to find Zoe before he made any more mistakes. Neil feared that Zoe might be under Jill’s influence again, leading him to commit more murders.
Neil struggled to keep his eyes open, his eyelids heavy from sleepless nights.
After midnight, the doorbell rang. Neil turned around, hopeful that Zoe had returned, but as he reached the door, he stopped. If it were Zoe, there would be no need to ring the bell; she had her own key! A cold draft blew in from the open window, and Neil shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and dismiss the uneasy feeling. He slowly opened the door, but no one was outside. Neil stepped out and looked around, but there was no one at the door. Perhaps he had imagined the sound. Just as he was about to turn back inside, a sudden, intense pain struck him from behind. Someone had hit him on the head with a heavy object.
When Neil opened his eyes, his head was pounding, and his body felt nauseous. He rubbed his face, trying to figure out where he was. The first thing he saw was a white ceiling with familiar patterns. Looking down, he saw wooden flooring and white walls, with the windows closed. Neil realized he was still in his own house.
Lying on the cold floor, Neil tried to stand but felt an unusual sensation in his left wrist. He looked at it and was shocked to see it handcuffed with his own handcuffs, which were connected to a long chain. He sat up and tried to remove the handcuffs, but they wouldn't budge. Following the chain, he saw it wrapped several times around the sofa, and the end was secured to a wooden pillar in the center of the room.
What is happening? Is this a dream?
Neil searched for anything that could help him open the handcuffs but found nothing. He tried the closet, but there was nothing useful. Feeling increasingly uneasy, he pulled on the chain and began to move. He managed to reach the hallway, dragging the chain behind him. The chain was long enough to allow him to move around the house but not to reach the windows or doors.
“Is anyone here?!” Neil called out. “Hello? Is anyone there?” He called again, but there was no response.
The living room was dimly lit. Neil noticed that the curtains were drawn tightly, blocking any light. The blackout curtains were so effective that not a single ray of light penetrated through. Neil had no idea if it was daytime or still night.
He moved closer to the window, wanting to see outside. However, the window was two meters away from where he stood, and the chain was too short to allow him to get closer.
Clenching his teeth, he went to the front door. Fortunately, the chain was long enough to reach it. He tried to unlock it, but it wouldn’t budge. Someone had locked the door from the outside with another lock. Neil returned to the bedroom, and as he passed the open bathroom door, he looked inside. The bathroom was spacious, with two doors: one leading to the toilet and the other to a room with a bathtub. The chain was long enough to reach both the bathroom and the toilet. Neil looked around, hoping to find something that could help him with the handcuffs but found nothing.
“What is this?” Neil muttered, growing increasingly frustrated. “What is going on?”
No one answered his cries; only his voice echoed back. Neil ran to the window and pulled the curtains open with all his might. But beyond the curtain was a white wall. The window had been sealed. Neil stood there in disbelief. He staggered back to the sofa and sat down, feeling overwhelmed.
In his fury, Neil questioned why he was in this situation. Then, another thought struck him, amplifying his fear.
Neil remembered the photo of himself with Zoe and began to suspect that Zoe was the one imprisoning him. Zoe had returned, not to kill him but to imprison him for life, making him experience the same torment and suffering that Zoe had endured while being held in that dark, gloomy detention center for years.