At night, she’d slide the door down just enough to stay hidden but leave a sliver open for air. It wasn’t comfort — it was survival.
The air smelled of dust and rust. The concrete floor leached cold through the thin mattress. Every sound — the wind rattling the metal, a truck in the distance — made her jump.
Until the tenth night.
The First Knock
Emily had just settled into her cot when she heard it.
Knock. Knock.
Two slow, deliberate taps from the other side of the wall.
She froze.
Her heart pounded in her throat. She held her breath and listened. Nothing. Then—again—
Knock… knock.
Followed by a faint dragging sound, like something scraping across the concrete floor.
