Epilogue

I was a victim of a serial killer-the only one who made it out alive.
I was kidnapped when I was 19. Kept in a small, suffocating room with no light, no sense of time, no hope. My only companions were the screeching of rats and the silence that gnawed at my sanity slowly.
I tried to escape-of course I did. But the room offered nothing. No tools, no weak points. Nothing. My captor knew this. He made sure of it.
So I stopped hoping for freedom. I knew how this story would end. And when I dreamed, it was of light and voices-a cruel trick of my mind.
Until one day, the dream felt different.