Writers Note: I don't own this movie or its characters.

At first I thought it was all in my mind. Hours in the darkness do that to a person. Movement, light, voices had all become so foreign to me that when the glass shattered it took me a while to register. My head cocked to the side a bit; listening. Glass crunched under thick boots. In the black I couldn't make out anything. Cold sweat slid between my shoulder blades running the track of my spine, heart beat a furious primal rhythm, eyes desperately raked the deep ether. Deep. That was the only way to describe it. Dank, infected, brutal, penetrating. I could feel the dead. The basement was seething with the blood of the men and women that had met their maker. After a week of being there I became a part of it. It was in my lungs, hair, clothes, under my nails. I crouched on a thin mattress spattered brown with dried blood. I could feel the indent where other people had laid, once they had been me. Now where were they?

Where was everyone? It amazed me how my world, which had once been so vast, was now reduced to a bare cement room. I was a student for goodness sake's; a twenty-two year student with a penchant for classic Hollywood cinema and the Book of Revelations. I was too young; too guiltless. I soon found that I was not a person. I was leverage and leverage didn't speak, or cry out, or beg, or pray, or fight, or leave. Leverage sat still, spoke when was spoken to, and paid their family's debt in blood when the time came.

The only people I had contact with were the few nameless minions who brought me my water and helped me use the restroom. Nothing more. Being alone, I tried to tell myself how I was strong; tried to remember things that made me happy and willful. I used my nails to dig dents into my arms so I could keep track of the days I figured I had been there.

The room had one window in it. It was a thin slat, painted black. Not all the paint was thick and in the day I perceived the paint was lighter in some places. I think. Now, looking back I don't know what was real and what I dreamed. Though I thought I could have fit through it if it wasn't so high up and my hands and feet hadn't been bound. It's easy to think of all the things you could do "if". After a few days I stopped entertaining those fantasies. After a few days they came for me.