Everyone I’ve seen in the last four months asks the same question. They stare at my missing patch of hair, which I’ve combed over without much success. Then they say, “Why did you do it?”

Breaking into a sweat, I scream. “Let me out.” A woman chuckles. “See if you can find your way out. No one has yet.”

A woman with a wrinkled face and long gray braids sits beside a circle of stones, meditating. Her index fingers and thumbs touch, resting in her lap. “Who are you?” I say. “And where am I?” She opens her eyes. “Did you bring the cat?”“Yes, I did. Does it matter?” She arches her eyebrows. “You’d be surprised how few people bring Brutus with them.”

I shiver, and goosebumps prick my flesh. I’m trapped and caught in a game I don’t want to play. I’ll have to try all the exit doors until I break through one without the retinal scan security.

I shrug. “I’m nobody special. I’m an average person with an average family who has made mistakes and is getting her life back together. Or so I’d hoped before I came here.”

I stand there, open mouthed, taking it all in. My feet don’t move. This last bit is almost too much for me to take. I’m not sure I have the stamina to keep going. When will this game end?

She pulls out her phone and types a text. The clicking makes a satisfying sound as she taps out a message. A hunger to cradle a phone rises within me. I miss my device.

Tears wet my cheeks. His words sucker punched me. If only I had that day to do over.

Spit flies and sprays my cheeks when he says, “You think you can refuse, but it’s not an option. You entered at your own risk and ignored posted warnings. You’ll give us all the information we seek at any cost. You’ll help us improve our model, whether you like it or not.”

The trickle becomes a flood, rushing in and swirling around my feet. I don’t see a door or a window. I’ve got to figure this game out before they kill me.

This is my fault. I invited the monster into my house.

“In addition to food being provided, we have special lights to emulate sunlight. Each person underground must sit in front of a happy light to read or work on their laptop for two hours each day. Otherwise, we’ve found workers get cranky without actual daylight.”