The room was dimly lit, a small corner lamp casting a weak glow across the cream-colored walls of Annelise's room. The three women sat cross-legged on the floor, a brown paper bag rustling between them, the aroma of street food filling the air. Annelise took a deep breath, closing her eyes as the steam from a freshly unwrapped raclette sandwich caressed her face. She hadn't tasted food from outside since the nightmare had begun two months ago.
Eliane handed her a piece of rösti with trembling hands, her eyes darting between Annelise and Noemie. "Eat fast," she said, voice almost inaudible. "We only have thirty minutes."
Noemie bit into a crispy bratwurst roll, the crunch loud in the silence. For a moment, they just ate...greedily, desperately. The taste was a forgotten memory, a fleeting sweetness in the bitterness that surrounded them.
Annelise, halfway through her food, noticed something. A black leather collar, thin but firm, wrapped tightly around Noemie's neck. A small glint of metal flashed from beneath Eliane's scarf.
She blinked. "What's that on your neck?"
Both girls froze. The silence became unbearable.
Eliane looked at Noemie, her eyes watering. Noemie nodded, silently giving her permission.
Eliane slowly pulled her scarf down, revealing the same collar around her neck. "It's Matteo," she whispered. "He…..... he made us wear these."
Noemie's voice cracked, "you are next ."
Eliane couldn't finish. The weight of unspeakable memories pressed too heavily.
Annelise stared at them. Her fingers loosened, the half-eaten rösti falling to the ground. It landed softly on the floor. Her stomach clenched.
She picked it up.
And she ate it.
Not because she didn't care. But because crying had become futile. It was now just another part of her day.
Their phones were long gone. Matteo had taken them on the third day. "Security reasons," he had said with a smirk. Now, they could only speak with their families once a week...on Sundays, with Matteo monitoring every word. Outside, people assumed they were working in hospitality, modeling, or education. Their parents had doubts, but their children insisted it was a 'great opportunity.' How many times could a mother say no before giving in to the begging voice of her daughter?
The next day, the sun scorched the earth, shadows melting beneath its wrath. In a building made entirely of black glass in Geneva, so reflective it mirrored the fire of the sky, Matteo stood in silence.
The room was cold despite the heat outside. A ceiling fan spun slowly, whining. Matteo held a half-filled wine glass, his shirt partially unbuttoned, his gaze fixed on the garden.
He sipped his wine lazily.
In the garden below, tied to a steel pole, Annelise knelt. Her body sagged under the weight of exhaustion. A black collar locked around her neck, linked to a chain that rattled every time she shifted.
She was too weak to cry.
Wearing only black undergarments in that scorching heat was taking a toll on her.
"Water," she whispered, lips cracked, voice rasping. "Water…... water...…"
The concrete beneath her burned, but she remained. Her skin was red, her knees scraped. Her breath came in shallow gasps.
A door creaked open.
Ladina entered. Tall, cold, calculating.
"Sir," she said. "You're needed at the Eastern office. The investors have arrived."
He didn't turn. "Is it urgent?"
"Yes. They expect you. You're the face."
Matteo snarled. He hurled his glass at the wall, the shards scattering like stars.
"Fine," he muttered. "Let's go."
Ladina nodded. She turned, phone already in hand, dialing someone.
Down below, Annelise blinked. Her head fell forward.
Then...… a shadow.
She lifted her gaze slowly.
A person stood at the edge of the courtyard, where shade touched the concrete. The person's face obscured by the sun's glare, but the silhouette calm and firm.
Annelise squinted.
An angel? No....… too solid, too quiet.
The figure stepped forward.
Cool air seemed to follow that person.
Annelise's breath hitched.
The man knelt beside her. "Shh.... don't speak. I'm here now."
A soft hand touched her cheek. A small bottle pressed to her lips.
Water.
Real, cold, clean.
Annelise drank greedily. The liquid burned down her throat, waking every dead cell inside.
Water dripped onto her body, soaking her skin. It brought a slight sense of calm.