“You have a choice to make.” The disembodied voice sounded from a speaker mounted next to the camera.

He’d made her an offer. This whole ordeal could be over quickly. There would be no more pain. The thought of ending her nightmare sounded as peaceful as sunlight on her skin.

She wasn’t even sure how long she’d been there. What seemed like forever was probably a couple of days. What was he planning next?

Fear drove her to her feet. The cement scraped under her shoes. She stretched her arms over her head, her fingertips just brushing the heavy wooden beams of the ceiling. She paced the length of her prison, five strides forward, five strides back. She reached her hands out at her sides, and her fingertips brushed the rough cinder blocks on both sides.

At the end of her cell, she stopped and flattened her palms against the wooden door. She knew from experience that it was heavy and thick. It would not give to her pushes or kicks, not that she had any energy left for such efforts.

The camera blinked. Watching. Always watching.

So far, he’d been true to his word. He’d kept every promise he’d made. The first thing he’d said to her was that if she resisted, he would hurt her. And so he had. The memory sent a chill straight through her bowels. A sob rose into her throat and bubbled from her mouth. Her bones trembled.

Sinking back to the concrete, she crossed her legs and breathed, seeking calm, but it was no use. Her skin itched with the need to escape.

No matter what it cost.

This could all be over. Release was just a word away.

Hope died inside her. She had no illusions. She would never return to the life she’d worked so hard to rebuild. But in a way, knowing that there would be no more struggle, no more resisting temptation every single moment of every single day, was liberating.

Freeing.

Just as he’d promised.

She was tired of fighting. Even before this, every day had been a battle. He’d made her see that so clearly. But it could end here and now. Could she finally find real peace?

I always keep my promises.

She swallowed, her throat raw from unanswered screams. The hours of darkness were more than she could bear. Her willpower was ebbing, seeping from her pores like sweat.

Her mother would be devastated, but Mom’s happiness wasn’t enough. Missy was a coward. Selfish. Only concerned with herself. He was right. She didn’t deserve forgiveness or redemption. Silence pressed in on her, blanketing her with fear of the darkness. Of the sound of the door unlocking. Of the terror of what might happen. Of the horror of what had already happened.