Chapter 1 - THE RED EYE IN THE DARK
A close-up shot of a crying toddler boy with tear-streaked cheeks, sitting inside a dark, metallic, confined safe-like compartment.
He wears a dirty, stained beige long-sleeve shirt.
In his lap sits a plush brown teddy bear with a small black electronic device featuring a glowing red light attached to its head.
The lighting is dim and cool-toned, casting shadows on the metallic walls behind him, while a soft key light illuminates his distressed face.
The camera is static and positioned at eye level, capturing his clenched fists and emotional expression with a shallow depth of field.
The steel walls pressed inward, absorbing the heat radiating from his small body.
Condensation formed on the smooth metal just above his head.
His small chest heaved, pulling in air that tasted of copper and old dust.
A thick layer of grime coated the cuffs of his beige shirt.
The fabric clung to his damp skin, stiff with dried sweat and spilled milk.
He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing a fresh wave of warm tears over his eyelashes.
The saltwater cut clean tracks through the soot on his cheeks.
His knees were pulled tightly against his chest.
His light-up sneakers scuffed against the heavy iron floor of the compartment.
The rubber soles left dull, black streaks on the pristine metal.
His tiny fingers were balled into tight fists, the knuckles completely white.
He unclenched his right hand, his fingers trembling uncontrollably in the frigid air.
He reached down to the plush brown fur resting on his lap.
The teddy bear’s left ear was torn, a small tuft of white stuffing spilling out.
Resting between the bear's plastic button eyes was a square black box.
It was taped directly onto the synthetic fur with black electrical tape.
In the center of the box, a tiny glass bead pulsed.
Blink.
A sharp, blood-red light cut through the absolute darkness of the steel vault.
Blink.
It bathed the boy’s pale skin in a violent, crimson glow for a fraction of a second.
He stared at the red light, his lower lip quivering uncontrollably.
He leaned forward, pressing his chapped lips against the plastic black box.
"Mom."
His voice was barely a whisper, swallowed instantly by the heavy acoustics of the metal box.
"Can you hear me?"
He didn't wait for a reply from the red light.
Child logic told him the red light was a tiny mouth.
Mouths could only speak if someone was listening on the other side of the string.
May you like
He squeezed the bear tighter, waiting for the plastic to whisper back.
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