Seconds. Hours. DAYS.

Time is an illusion. I've tried to count the seconds by playing with the water in my mouth, and accidentally swallowed it. But it should be enough. She will come ba ck any second now.

I need to write something.

Think. Think. Romance, old fashioned. A good old vanilla romance. Add some more tropes, some more twists. Childhood friend. Love rivalry. Gay romance. Bisexual heterosexual romance. Make them slaves and slaveowners. Pronounce the age difference. Make them related by blood. Brother. Sister. Aunt. Nephew. Mother. Son. Step-mother. Son-son.

A twist. A rape. A love triangle. Death. Suicide. Tragedy. Cheating. Heartbreak.

Just pick one, for God's sake. PICK ONE AND WRITE IT.

You got it!

Guy and girl. Romance.

Now you need to write it! You need a keyboard! BUT YOU CAn'T WR ITE!

Please God if you're listening, it's me-

But my prayer was cut short by the sound of someone's breathing. The headphones had been taken off, and I could hear everything around me. Her breathing, the water flowing through the pipes like blood. The blood in my veins. My heart urging me to run somewhere, but my feet do not responder, the straps cut off the bloodflow to the point I can't feel it.

"So, Anon~" AZKi whispers. "You wrote your next masterpiece, right?"

And I wish I could tell her I needed more time, that I wasn't done. Maybe I wanted to beg, but words wouldn't come out, no matter how clearly or blurry my mind was. I couldn't speak with the ball gag in my mouth, and even if she took it off, I think I had swallowed my tongue. AZKi pranced around my chair, the sound of her footsteps echoing through the empty room like the ticking of a clock. If I had been able to move, I'd shiver.

"I know there's something in there yet, Anon, we just need to take it out." AZKi picked something up, I wasn't sure what. The sounds of a powerdrill invaded my ears, making me writhe and cry. The sound slowly stopped, and AZKi put it down. "I've given you a couple of days with no distractions... I bet you came up with something good! What is it, Anon?" A chair creaked as AZKi dragged it towards me, and mentally, I begged for God to give me a heartattack. But her wasn't there.

AZKi sat.

And said nothing.

...

And nothing...

And nothing?!

Nothing.

"I bet." She spoke. "I bet it's a fascinating, thrilling story." Her fingers landed on my muzzle, throwing me in the darkest pit of desperation. She wasn't here to motivate me, she was here expecting an answer. My first thought was to beg. The second to treathen her. The third, to cry. The fourth, to beg for my mom.

In the end, I said nothing.

"So, Anon?" She stood up. "What's your masterpiece about?"

I had forgotten how to speak, it seemed. With a violent lunge, AZKi grabbed me by the shirt, pulling me closer. "ARE YOU FUCKING WRITING OR NOT?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I GAVE UP FOR YOU?!"

"Please..." I begged. "AZKi, please... Just let it go! Let it go!" I cried.

"My literary empire, my thread-cred..." She sighed. "All of it, gone in an instant. All of those fakers, all those FREAKS! What do they know, huh? What do they know about writing? WHAT DO THEY KNOW ABOUT DISSECTING A STORY?!" With a growl akin to a demonbeast, AZKi yelled, and then the sound of broken glass struck the room. "I get it.... I really do, Anon... I think I know how you felt when everything went wrong, when your wife left you, when your friends abandoned you, when everyone tore you apart. I get it! I've lost something too... I've lost it all!"

"O father, who art in heaven..." I prayed.

"BUT THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND!"

"H-HALLOWED BE THY NAME!"

"So, so! What did you write?" AZKi asked, her voice composed and seiso. "I still couldn't answer, muttering God's name was quite a mouthful, and I couldn't hold my prayers between my teeth. Then again, the sound of the drill. REEEEVVING up EVER CLOSER TO ME

"A-A-A-A-A STORY!"

The motor quietens, but the dull sound is enough, for me to know that AZKi's finger is still lightly pulling the trigger. I catch my breath and inhale my soul back inside, and the drill's ever turning. Ever turning.

"A-A-A-A-About! A man! Andawoman!" I cried. "ABOUT A MAN AND A! WOMAN!"

"And then...?"

"... They fall in love..." I snorted, pulling the falling snot back into my nose. "They fall in love!"

And silence invaded the room, like the angel of judgement.

"That's... That's it! That's genius! YES!" AZKi shrieks. "Anon! You're a genius! They fall in love... a man and a woman...! That's it! OH YES!"

I hear something clinking. AZKi must be carrying her tools. She pulls a table that I know by the sound of the rusty metal legs scrapping the floor. "Y-You know, Anon..." She spoke, the table stopping, something being unrolled. "I get it, and I know you do too. When I read your stories, your novels, it's so... SO! So beautiful! Your verses, your prose, your characters. I get them! I can recite them by heart! 'Today was going to be the best day of your life...'! So dreamy, so beautiful! Like a magical dream!"

AZKi hopped towards me again. "I think... We've grown close. Yes. All this time, all those characters, they were based off me, right? Those verses, they were for me, right? For nobody else... not even that UNGRATEFUL whore of an archiver saw it... Anon, it's okay, alright? I get it! We understand each other! We we're MADE for each other! When you invited me over to write the foreword to your book, ah, I was thrilled! I was... I felt it!" Her voice swirled in pleasure. "I licked the card you sent me t r y i n g t o ge t a t as te of y our s ce n t. And my love, you taste so GOOD!"

Her fingers landed on my face again. This time undoing my blindfold. "So don't worry, okay? Even if no one else likes your works... I do. You'll never need another beta reader again."

And finally, the sickly yellow light seeped into my eyes, blinding me. First I looked at the floor, at the walls, nowhere.

"Anon..." And then, I looked in front of me, looking into the pretty purple eyes of A Z KI. "I love you. So write a good story for us, okay? Write a killer, winner story!"

Grabbing and pulling a strap, the ropes tied around my elbows pulled inward, putting me in an awkward position, like a poor attempt at imitating Frankenstein. The sound of a mechanical keyboard, being placed right in front me, my fingers twitch, and AZKi laughs. I'm still not free. Taking my left hand's right finger, AZKi aligns a needle between my fingernail and my finger.

"AZKi..." I cried. "I can't write... without my finger..."

Tilting her head and smiling, AZKi spoke. "And you'll be able to write less if I take the rest."

Slowly, steadily, AZKi wedged the needle into me, and I screamed until I coughed blood. AZki pushed the table towards me, the keys of the keyboard just below my hands.

"So write, Anon. Write to Survive."

I look at the keys as AZKi goes up the stairs of the basement.

qwertyuiop
asdfghjkl
zxcvbnm

And the trapdoor slams shut.

~*~

"Bold, fresh, and evocative of strong, complex feelings. Seudonymus' new piece of work, Anon is murdered, is not only a statement bout societal expectations, about culture, about writing, but about the writer himself. This piece of work is by far his most engaging yet complex piece, and it seems to take a well-deserved relish in fooling the reader, making them think they understand, and keeping the more insightful ones on edge, crying, or laughing."

Her review was well received. The press was all over Anonymous' latest piece. His friends sand their praises, his ex wanted to get back with him, but she only wanted him for his wordcount, not his prose.

Not like her.

Stepping down the basement, she she flaunts a dead rabbit from her hand. The sounds of bare flesh come forwards. Anon tries to reach for his prize.

"Nu-uh-uh." She pulls it away. Reatreating into the darkness, Anon waddles and comes back with a stack of paper that he obediently hands over to AZKi. She takes it, and then throws the dead animal towards the darkness. Anon sprints towards it and AZKi smiles at him lovingly as he tears it apart.