A story of young struggles. Including the occasional Addictions, self loathing, depression and teenage hormones? Follow the trails of a new Student, Avery Cortez as she pivots through obstacles from personal experience to understanding the meaning o...
Avery's drowsiness faded away as a faint buzzing sound reached her ears, stirring her from her slumber. Slowly, her mind awakened, but her body struggled to catch up. Her gaze, hazy and blurred, struggled to focus on her surroundings. The realization hit her hard—she was far from her familiar dorm room. Panic surged through her veins as she discovered her limbs shackled tightly to the bed with unyielding, thick chains made of titanium alloy. Helplessly bolted under the bed, there was no escape.
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"What the...?" Avery's voice trembled as she attempted to resist the chains, to break free from their grip. Her struggles only elicited a cruel response—the chains tightened further, constricting her movements with a merciless grip.
"You know, if you keep moving, the chains will only grow tighter," a voice whispered from somewhere nearby. Avery's eyes darted frantically, searching for the source, but she found no one in sight. "The design of these chains is meant to strengthen under force. So technically, they're incredibly difficult to break."
Frustration and anger welled up within Avery, fueling her determination. But after a few more futile attempts, she succumbed to the chains' unyielding hold, her labored breaths echoing her defeat.
"Where are you?" she managed to utter between breaths, her voice filled with desperation.
Suddenly, a scraping sound filled the air as a chair was pulled closer to the bed. Avery turned her head and found herself face to face with a man who had taken a seat beside her. His young, handsome features, complemented by black hair and a well-tailored suit, contradicted the gravity of her situation.
"Who are you?" Avery's voice wavered, a mix of fear and defiance lacing her words.
The man fixed his gaze upon her, his eyes seemingly lost in contemplation. Leaning back in the chair, he finally spoke, his voice carrying authority.
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"I'm Senior Special Agent, John Constantine... FBI." With a deliberate motion, he displayed his shiny identification badge, momentarily capturing Avery's attention.
A wave of resignation washed over Avery as she sank her head into the softness of the pillow beneath her.
"Given your relationship with the head of S.N.D.A, we thought it best to intervene and take over this matter," he explained, his tone laced with a hint of smugness.
