If you live next to a quiet woman named Hana, and she smiles a little too long when she sees you…
When I woke, I was here. This unfinished basement. Concrete walls. A single bulb overhead buzzing like a trapped fly. My wrists bound with thick rope to an old wooden dining chair. My ankles tied to the legs. My mouth wasn’t gagged — she wanted me to speak. -JBD-202- I Was Tied Up By My My Neighbor Hana
And every few hours, she tightens the ropes. If you live next to a quiet woman
Yesterday, she brought me a sandwich and a glass of water. She untied one of my hands to let me eat. I thought about grabbing her, but her eyes — flat, calm, patient — told me she’d already planned for that. There was a knife in her lap. Not a threat. A fact. A single bulb overhead buzzing like a trapped fly
You never really notice the little things about a person until you’re tied to a chair in their basement.
I believed her.