The walls on either side of the tiny space are made of thick transparent material. Acrylic maybe? Vines grow like weeds over every inch of it. Potted daffodils like the dried one Jol gave me fill the small space. I squint at the thick acrylic wall. There is something on the other side. Age and moisture have clouded the plexiglass-type material an opaque white and I brush the overgrowth away, rubbing it with my hand. I glimpse something rough and hard and gray on the other side.

Stone.

The distinct curvature of a human nose gives me pause. I see lips and hidden beneath more vines, eyes. A woman. A stone woman. Alarms go off somewhere in the back of my mind. The other wall holds another, smaller statue of a girl.

A sudden 'whoosh' comes from behind. I whirl around to see what it was. Plexiglass with long metal bars now stands where I had entered the tiny space. In the center is a large window nearly the size of the wall and made of vertical bars. Behind it, Jol holds a small, silver remote, his thumb pressed over a red button in the middle.

For several moments I do nothing. My mind plunges down an abyss where it twists and spins like a cat falling through the air, seeking only one thing. Solid ground. Something believable.

"Jol, this isn't funny." My voice comes out strangled.

"I knew you were special."

My fingers clasp the bars and I shake them, but the frame is solid, lined with metal. The acrylic around it must be five inches thick at least.

"Anastasia," he speaks my name with a mixture of awe and reverence, throwing his hands into the air before they come to rest on his balding head. "Together, we will save them."

"Let me out!"

"Shh, shh. Don't be upset; all this is necessary."

He's insane. Not weird, not eccentric, but absolutely mad. I feel dizzy and my legs start to buckle, but I catch myself using the bars. Then I realize he's been talking to me. Asking something.

"—very good stuff. Will you try it?"

"No, Jol," I snap. "I won't try anything until you let me out of here."

He clicks his tongue. "Too bad, too bad. It would speed up the process. Make it easier. Help you to see."

"You can't keep me down here."

"You're not listening." He speaks as if talking to a child. "Once the process is complete, the rebirth will happen. This is something to be celebrated."

"Process? Rebirth?"

"Yes." His hands turn outward, palms up. "You will bring them back."

He glances at the spaces to my left and right. The stone statues? Then I realized, this is his garden. Not the flowers and vines but those statues on either side of the acrylic. They are people. It is a garden of stone.

But I am not a statue. I am flesh and blood.

"Those are statues, Jol. You can't keep me down here. I'm not a statue, I'm a living person."

His face fills with such pity. "Indeed, you are."

Something about it registers wrong and my hands start to shake.

"Help!" I scream, searching the dull fluorescent lights above with my eyes. "I'm down here! Help!"

"It's no use. The bunker is underground; no one will hear you."

He is right. I know he is. But I still want to scream. Scream at myself for being so stupid. Something between a snarl and a shriek escapes my clenched teeth and I kick the wall, beginning to pace.

"Why?" I yell. "You already had me, why trick me down here?"

"Your name"—his eyes sparkle with delight—"it revealed your destiny to me."

I scoff. My name? Is this really all because of a name? How can I be so unlucky as to tell this mentally unstable man the exact thing he believes justifies kidnapping and murder?

"Well, if that's true then you'll be disappointed to hear I lied." I keep my face straight and serious. "It's something I made up. An alias. I don't tell strangers my real name."

He tilts his head with narrowed eyes before a lopsided smile eases his features. "No, I think you're lying now, Anastasia."

I swallow, keeping my voice level, and meet his gaze. "But what if I'm not? You'll be killing a person for nothing."

He goes quiet at this, eyes losing focus. He fingers the small silver remote in his hands absently.

"You came willingly." He nods to himself. "It is your destiny. You are just scared, but it's okay. You had to be willing and you came willingly to this place."

"Jol!" I pound a fist onto the wall pulling his eyes back to me. "I am not willing. I want you to let me out."

With furrowed brows, he wipes sweaty palms over his raggedy shirt, shaking his head. "You need time to accept your destiny. Eventually, you will see." He backs away, turning to leave through the exit.

"Jol!" I pound the wall and shout his name but the man shuts the door behind him.

I am left alone with nothing but stone ears to hear my cries. I spend the next several hours scouring every inch of that small space, looking for some kind of weakness or gap between the edges, taking satisfaction in ripping up every last strand of his precious vines and smashing all the pots on the floor. But by the end, I have nothing but a mess at my feet and confirmation that Jol holds my only key to freedom.

It is getting late, or at least I think it is. There is no time in this place, no sun or sky, no change in temperature or sounds of birds. Just flickering lights overhead and soft music from the speakers over the doorway. My stomach growls and I hug myself in misery. Eli must be going out of his mind right now. I wonder if he tracked me to the river; maybe he found the place where I fell in.

Will he be able to find me?

He has to. Or else I must find a way to make Jol let me out. How do you deal with a crazy person? Can you reason with them? Should you even try? Is it better to work within their fantasy or shatter it completely?

The door opens and Jol walks in.

Speak of the devil.

"I've been thinking," he begins. "You must be terribly confused."

Oh yes, I'm the confused one here.

"Your passing will bring about the rebirth of women everywhere. You don't have to be scared, just think of all the good you will do."

He plans to kill me. The air thins and I feel my lungs strain but I have to keep it together. The man thinks I can actually wake people from the stone? Alright. Fine then.

"You know what, Jol? I think you're right."

I have his attention so I continue. "Everywhere I go I find more and more women waking from the stone. I thought it was normal."

I wear my poker face perfectly and for a moment, a shadow of doubt slips over his features. But then it disappears.

"Lying is a bad habit, Anastasia."

"Why do you think I'm lying?"

He gives me a toothy grin. "Because you are scared. But it's okay, I'm here to help you. The process is not something to fear."

I grip the bars. "Don't you see how crazy this is? Jol, I'm a person just like you; if you do this then you'll be a murderer."

"No, no, no, death is a natural thing. But being trapped in stone is not. Your sacrifice will save so many more."

"Please, don't do this. I can't do anything like what you say," I plead. "I have a little brother; I need to find him. Please—"

"Enough!" He snaps, face twisting into something dark.

I flinch and step back. A tightness in the back of my throat makes it hard to swallow. Hard to speak. Maybe I can't get out of this on my own.

"Now." Jol holds up a small vial with clear liquid. "You must drink this."

He crouches and pushes the vial through a small metal-hinged flap at the bottom of my door. His movements are slow and I know he is being careful to not get too close to the bars separating us.

I look at it on the ground between all the wilting vines. "Is it poison?"

He clasps his bony hands together, like a grandmother pleading to a small child. "I promise, it will be quick and painless."

I stomp down on the vial and it shatters into a thousand pieces beneath my boot.

He sighs, then smiles sadly. "I am not surprised. Nevertheless, it will be nice to have the company for a while I suppose."

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Hours pass and I soon learn that any talk of Ivan or my family is strictly forbidden. If I try to share, his mild demeanor disappears and he bites my head off. Still, I try. What's he going to do? Kill me? But when I persist, it results in an empty room with nothing but a stone to speak to.

After a while, my hunger fades, but my thirst comes and goes in waves. I try to loosen the metal frame off the bars, but just end up destroying my knife. No amount of kicking or ramming the walls helps do anything except release some of my pent-up anger. It soon becomes clear Jol simply plans to starve me.

Will Eli find me? He must. I'm all out of ideas for how to handle Jol. The madman shows up every night. I say night because he reads to me out of some ragged book and then bids me goodnight and turns the music and lights off. Although, I think he intends the reading more for the plants than for me. After Jol left the first night I honestly thought I might go mad. Something about being stuck in utter darkness and dead silence with nothing but your own breath, heartbeat, and thoughts echoing in your mind is unnerving. I've always had the sounds of birds or bugs, and even on the darkest of nights, there are always stars glowing behind the clouds. Maybe this is how Jol went insane. Maybe I'll turn into Jol.

I sit with my back against the wall, staring at the clouded forms of the statues trapped here with me, and sing. I always found something therapeutic in music. In singing. I let my voice carry away all the fear and pain of this moment and every moment since I woke up from the stone. They used to say I had a siren's voice. I even garnered quite the following with a few of my social accounts and a month before everything ended a record company reached out to me. But now, all that means nothing. Now it doesn't even exist.

Three days in and the simple act of standing sends the world spinning. My mouth is dry as cotton and when Jol comes in to water his plants, I have to close my eyes to keep from losing it. I know the man intends to kill me, but this is truly torture. Even still, I sing. I sing until my throat is dry and hoarse. Until my voice cracks and fails me. Until I literally cannot sing anymore.

Something bumps up against my leg as I sit with my face buried in my arms. A bottle? The plastic is yellowed with age, but inside is a clear liquid. I reach out to take it, surprised by how heavy it feels. Jol is crouching there by the little flap at the bottom of the door.

He nods at it. "It's just water, I promise."

Do I trust him? I don't know how much longer I have, but I will wait for Eli until the very end. The man is still looking for me, I know it. He doesn't give up so easily. That time back on the bridge proved it.

I struggle to unscrew the lid and give it a sniff. It smells like nothing. Like water.

"Why?" my voice cracks.

Jol rubs the back of his neck. "It's been so long since I've heard a voice like yours."

"I thought you wanted me dead."

He sighs in exasperation, "I don't want you dead, but yes, it is necessary. And it's just some water. It doesn't change anything, not really."

I take a small sip and wait. It is difficult. Every cell in my body screams at me to gulp it all down but I need to know if this is a trick.

I count to one hundred and drink more. Then more and more. Before I know it, the entire bottle is empty. I feel alive again. The strange fog which clouded my mind lifts and I notice Jol watching me in silence, waiting expectantly.

I sing now, more aware of my audience than ever before. I feel like a canary in a cage the way he watches me. Every day or so he gives me water—just enough to keep me alive. Just enough to keep me singing. He often sits on the reading chair and listens with closed eyes.

"Jol?"

His eyes open.

"Are these statues your wife and daughter?"

His gaze ticks toward the smaller statue on my right and then the other, his look softening. "My wife loves to sing. Sounds like an angel."

"And your daughter?"

"She loves bedtime stories."

I nod my head. Explains why he reads aloud every night. I should probably leave it at that, but I can't. "So you're doing this for them?"

"Of course, they are my whole life."

I see it. It scares me how much he means those words. The man trying to murder me shouldn't be allowed to look so fondly at anyone.

"Would your wife want you to do this? Would your daughter?"

His face scrunches up and he tugs at the ragged clothing near his chest. "You're just scared. I told you there is nothing to fear. I can make it so you feel no pain—"

"How do you know you're right? What if I die and then I'm just dead? Nothing happens. No one wakes up from the stone."

He steps a little closer. "Do you really want to know? I can show you."

I swallow in uncertainty. "Show me what?"

His eyes light up and he hurries from the room, returning later with a pitcher holding green-tinted liquid. He pours a small cup and carefully pushes it through the door.

"I'm not drinking your poison, Jol," I snap.

"Not poison. Tea. It will help you see what I've seen. Look." He pours himself a cup and takes a big swallow, grinning with long yellow teeth afterward.

Tea? I suppose it makes sense. He tried probably half a dozen times to get me to drink some. But Eli always warned against consuming plants of any kind left in this world and my uncle echoed the sentiment in his journal.

"Plants are toxic, so how are you drinking them?"

"All good things have deterrents for those who are not meant to enjoy them."

Of course. I pick up his cup and swish the contents around. Tea is just leaf water, right? How bad can it be, so why not? At least I have Jol's attention. Maybe I can convince him not to kill me by giving it a try.

I take a small sip. The moment the liquid reaches my taste buds my body spits it out before I can stop myself. The bitterness burns my tongue and claws up the back of my throat, searing my nose.

Jol nods in expectation. "It takes some time."

I hold in a gag. This cannot be good to consume. But if I can get a little bit of it down maybe Jol will listen to me. Crunching my eyes shut, I take a big swallow, bypassing my taste buds and forcing it down. Horrible bitterness overwhelms my senses and I pant through the disgust as Jol stands there, watching intently.

Then it hits me. My stomach contorts, folding in on itself and I race to the corner of the tiny space, vomiting back up the vile drink. Afterward, I am left weak and light-headed.

"Tsk, tsk, too bad." Jol clicks his tongue. "I really hoped things would be different for you."

I hold my stomach, looking up at him. "That stuff doesn't bother you at all?"

"Oh no, no, it took me six months before I could keep it down long enough to have my eyes opened. I just thought maybe things would be different with you because you are meant to save them."

So he built up a tolerance. But I don't have six months. I try several more times to keep the 'tea' down, but my stomach simply refuses. Shaking like a leaf, I wipe stringy saliva and stomach acid from my mouth and slide to the floor in defeat. With my eyes crammed shut, cold wet streaks down the sides of my face tell of the tears which escaped of their own accord. My muscles twitch sporadically across my body and I squeeze my knees with the frustration of it all.

Jol crouches on the other side of the acrylic. "Your tenacity is admirable."

I give him a hopeful look. "If I had a little more time..."

He understands what I mean. I will puke out tea every day for a little bit of food.

He looks at me sadly. "We must accept things as they are. I know it is hard, but I will be here with you through it."

I want to cry. I thought raiders were cruel, but this man...he would weep right alongside you as he slid a dagger across your throat. But I can't give up. For Ivan. For my little brother. I must keep trying to get through to this madman.

"The tea, how does it work?"

He scratches that skunk of a beard before jumping up and disappearing through the door. He returns and sprawls an armful of roots, leaves, and stems across the floor in front of my prison door. I drag myself over to watch him organize the mess into piles.

"You make tea out of all this?"

"Everyone thinks plants are toxic, but they are just much more potent now and our bodies are less tolerant than before. Take this"—he holds up a leaf with five points—"it was a numbing agent before but now just one leaf causes paralysis for at least 10 hours."

Jols eyes sparkle as he talks and I try to keep my face neutral. He explains how one flower causes seizures while another blindness. I push away a little voice in the back of my head that wonders how he discovered these things.

"What about that one?" I point at a red twisting-looking root.

He stops, straightening. "Valerian root? That one is for you when you are ready for it."

I frown. When I'm ready?

He explains. "I told you it does not have to hurt."

My fingertips go ice cold. I glance at the remains of the shattered vial Jol tried to get me to drink that first day. The tiny glass shards shine between the dried remains of twisted vines.

"That's the poison you gave me?"

He holds it up. "Have you changed your mind? I hate to watch anything suffer, especially you."

Suffer? Suffer? Anger blossoms in my chest. For a moment the world turns to red and I smack my fist against the wall of my cage. The violent sound rips through the calm space making him jump.

"I welcome the pain, Jol. Want to know why? Because, despite your best efforts, it means I am still alive."

I bite the last words out and glare at the man before me. He soaks in my fury like a sponge, unaffected and unlinking. But I know his buttons. I know how to hurt him.

"Despite your best efforts to destroy a family. To take a sister from her little brother." I spit the words.

Jol is already on his feet. His lips spread into a thin line as he hurries to collect his things and leave.

"My brother isn't much older than your daughter, Jol. I just want to save him. Jol, Jol!"

He escapes, latching the door shut behind him. He'll be gone for several days, but I'm too angry to care. I know he hates hearing about Ivan because it reminds him how selfish he's being. It breaks this mad fantasy of his.

One week turns into two, which stretches into a month. I feel my muscles grow weaker and they often twitch and spasm at night. Jol gives me water every other day, enough to keep me alive, but nothing more. I hardly sleep through the night anymore because right as I manage to drift off, knifing hunger pain jolts me awake again. Yet, when I am awake, I have no hunger at all.

After a while, I stop singing. I get too out of breath and have a hard time remembering the lyrics. For some reason, Jol still gives me water bottles. But eventually, even my thirst leaves me and soon several unopened water bottles lay scattered among the empty ones at my feet.

Then I saw him.

Eli.

At first, it was a sound, or maybe the thought of a sound. His footsteps out of the corner of my eye, or his voice from behind. The first time I really saw Eli as he stood before me, sword dripping in blood, face covered. Those awful, empty, bottomless, red-rimmed goggles staring into my soul. Other times I saw Ivan, standing off to the side or huddled in the corner, crying. I even saw Uncle once. But mostly, it's Eli. Sometimes I blink and realize it's not Eli but in fact Jol standing on the other side of the bars.

But the worst occurrence happened at night sometime between waking and sleeping. Eli seemed so real, like I could reach out and grab him. He touched my cheek and I felt hope spread like a virus through my body. But then I blinked and he was gone. It felt as if he'd taken my soul with him.

I know what they are. Hallucinations. Probably from going so long without food or sleep. At the very least, I'm losing my mind.

"Who is he?"

I didn't notice Jol walk in. He sits in his reading chair, book in hand. Was he reading?

"What?" I ask.

"The man named Eli. You say his name a lot. Who is he?"

I do? When did I say his name? I can't remember. Everything feels so distant. Like I am watching the world through a telescope, catching glimpses here or there but never seeing the big picture of what's right in front of me.

Jol is looking at me. What does he want? Oh, that's right. He asked me something.

"Eli is the man who always saves me." The words come out on their own.

"Then why do you cry when you say his name?"

I don't cry. Or maybe I do. I don't really know, and I struggle to remember. But why is Jol asking me these questions? He never showed the slightest interest in me or my life before. He avoided it. Whenever I mentioned Ivan, he would snap at me.

"Why do you care?"

I see it then. The same pity in his eyes that appeared that day he trapped me in here. When he told me I have to die.

I'm already dead. He can see it. There is no danger in showing some interest in a dead person. The realization leaves me empty. Hollow. I've been waiting for Eli to show up, but I didn't stop to wonder how long it's been. One month? Or is it two now?

No one is coming. Eli will not find me in time, if he hasn't already given up. And I cannot blame him. If I was in his shoes, I would have moved on after a week—two tops. And already it's been much longer than that. How well did we know each other anyways? He probably thinks I'm already dead.

And soon that will be true. My life is no different from all those women who turned to stone and never woke up. A waste. Inconsequential. I'm sorry, Ivan. I tried. I did. But I slipped up and sometimes all it takes is one bad day, one step too far, and Providence steals away your future until only hope remains. And then, eventually, that goes too.

The very act of standing leaves me breathless and dizzy. I curl up in the corner, hugging my legs, and just stare. Stare at the wall. Stare at the statues covered in vines. Stare at the occasional roach crawling across the floor. Stare at Jol when he visits every night to read, as he is now.

He licks his finger and turns the page.

"Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to—"

A crash from somewhere in the bunker cuts him short. He pulls out a small monitor from his pocket and jumps to his feet. The book hits the ground with a shallow thud. He runs a hand through thinning hair and rushes for the door, leaving it open in his haste.

I stare at it dully.