In a dimly lit, cold, and desolate room, Sharon Newman awakened to the blaring sound of an alarm echoing from a speaker. The sharp, piercing noise rattled her senses, sending a wave of confusion through her. Her head ached, her body felt weak, and for a fleeting moment, she couldn’t recall where she was or how she got there. As she struggled to regain her bearings, the eerie silence of the room set in—a space that appeared abandoned, with nothing but four gray walls and a locked door.

Then, a chilling realization hit her—she wasn’t alone. Phyllis Summers, a longtime rival with whom she shared a complicated history, lay motionless on the floor. Panic surged through Sharon as she rushed to Phyllis’s side, gently shaking her awake. Phyllis’s eyelids fluttered open, her expression laced with suspicion and fear.

“What happened to us?” Phyllis rasped, her voice hoarse and shaky. Her eyes darted around the unfamiliar surroundings before landing on Sharon. “What did you do to me?”

Stunned, Sharon reeled back. “No, Phyllis! I had nothing to do with this. I don’t even know where we are.”

But Phyllis wasn’t convinced. Though visibly weak, a sharp worry flickered in her eyes. “Is this part of some twisted plan against my family?” she accused, her distrust evident.

Sharon, still trying to piece together the fragmented memories in her mind, was baffled. “Phyllis, I swear—I don’t know who’s behind this. But we need to focus on getting out of here.”

A sickening thought crossed their minds. What if they weren’t just trapped? What if this was a sinister game meant to break them? Phyllis, skeptical of Sharon’s innocence, recalled hazy images—laughter in the darkness, the taste of something off in her drink, then darkness. Had she been poisoned?

The tension in the room thickened. “Whoever did this… they’re watching us,” Phyllis muttered, her breath shallow. “And they want us to turn against each other.”

A chill ran down Sharon’s spine. Was this meant to push them to the edge—to force them into a confrontation where only one could survive? If so, they couldn’t play into their captor’s hands.

Determined, Phyllis attempted to pick the lock with a paperclip she found on the floor. After minutes of futile attempts, it jammed. Frustrated, she sank against the wall, breathing heavily. “We’re not getting out like this.”

Sharon scanned the room, searching for anything that could help. A small bookshelf caught her attention. Dusty and worn, the books bore an unsettling insignia—Haven Hest Psychiatric Clinic.

“Phyllis… I think I know where we are,” Sharon whispered, her voice trembling.

Phyllis snapped to attention. “Haven Hest? That abandoned mental institution?”

Sharon nodded grimly. “What if someone brought us here on purpose? What if this isn’t just about us—but about revenge?”

Both women exchanged a wary glance. The mere thought of Ian Ward and Jordan—men who had already wreaked havoc on their lives—made Sharon’s blood run cold. Were their deranged followers behind this sick game?

A bag of canned food and a can opener sat in the corner, as if to suggest they would be here for a while. Their captor didn’t just want them to suffer—they wanted to toy with them, to see how long they could survive.

As they tried to retrace their last memories before being taken, t he pieces started falling into place. Sharon recalled an odd taste in her drink before losing consciousness, and Phyllis had a faint memory of feeling dizzy before waking up in this room. Had they been drugged? Was this part of some twisted experiment?

Phyllis clenched her fists, fury overtaking her fear. “Sharon, tell me the truth—what did you do to Heather? Do you really think a simple apology can erase everything?”

Sharon swallowed hard. “Phyllis, I regret everything that happened. But I had no control over this. We need to focus on getting out.”

Phyllis wasn’t convinced. The bitterness in her eyes was impossible to ignore. “Words mean nothing. You can’t just erase the past.”

Silence fell between them, but one thing was clear—they had to set aside their differences if they wanted to survive. As the minutes ticked by, the weight of their predicament settled over them. With no way of knowing what awaited them beyond the locked door, they had to rely on each other—even if trust was the last thing they felt.

The game had already begun. The only question was, who would make it out alive?