I’ve been here for… I don’t even know how long. There are no clocks, no windows—just four cold, concrete walls surrounding me. Every time I wake up, I carve a mark into the wall. There are 206 marks now. I’m alone in this cell, but I’m not the only captive. We talk to each other through the walls, piecing together fragments of our shattered memories. None of us knows why we’re here, but our last recollections are eerily similar: we were interviewing for a job. We waited in a room, the air filled with gas, and then… darkness. When we woke up, we were here. Wherever "here" is. Unlike the others, I have faint, fragmented memories of something more. I recall being strapped to a cold operating table, masked figures standing over me, speaking in hushed tones. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I knew I wasn’t supposed to be there. Whatever they’re doing to us, it’s not natural. Needle marks and surgical scars crisscross my body like a roadmap of pain. They’re experimenting on us, but none of us knows what for. So far, the effects have been subtle—nausea, dizziness, vomiting. No one feels quite right, but nothing makes sense. We’re trapped, powerless, and unable to fight back. They control everything: when we wake, when we sleep, and even… if we live. I’ve tried everything—even ending it all—but it’s as if they won’t let us die. I’ve lost all hope. Or at least, I had. Everything changed today. I woke to the sound of screaming. It was Steven—he was shouting, a raw and guttural sound that sent chills down my spine. The chaos escalated as guards rushed in. I heard gunshots. But Steven didn’t stop. He’d somehow escaped his cell and turned into something I can’t explain. A beast, a monster. I heard the sickening crunch of a guard’s skull against the wall, then heavy footsteps running down the corridor. More shouting, more chaos, and then… silence. I sat frozen, trying to make sense of it. How did Steven escape? How did he survive a gunshot at point-blank range? Whatever they’ve done to us, it’s changing us. It’s changing him. Before I could process it all, an alarm blared throughout the facility. A robotic voice echoed through the speakers: “Code red. Code red. All personnel evacuate immediately. The research center will self-destruct in 80 minutes.” This is it. The walls that have imprisoned us are crumbling, both literally and figuratively. For the first time, there’s a way out. A slim chance to escape this nightmare. But there’s no guarantee of survival. If we fail, we’ll die in the explosion. And yet, I’ve made my decision. I’d rather risk everything than rot away in this cell. This is our moment. Our chance to take back control. Freedom—or death.