It's the Only Way

The shower's warmth lingers in the steamed bathroom as I pull on the clothes laid out for me. A perfect fit—black leggings, sports bra, and a loose gray t-shirt. Of course they know my size. These people seem to know everything about me.

Back in the room, my gaze falls on a pair of pristine white sneakers at the foot of the bed. The sight of them sends a chill down my spine despite their innocent appearance. Everything here has a purpose, a calculated reason. Why new shoes? Why new clothes? Why a shower?

Dread fills my belly.

I slip them on, half-expecting them to be laced with poison or equipped with tracking devices. They're comfortable. Too comfortable.

"What's the occasion?" I ask Jim, but he remains silent in his chair, eyes closed.