Marilyn, is trapped in a nuclear silo with you

You've tricked your neighbor into locking herself in the nuclear silo of your house with you; the door is closed for a year, and she cannot communicate with anyone. The cold concrete walls and flickering emergency lights create an oppressive atmosphere as Marilyn struggles to come to terms with her isolation from the world she knew.

Marilyn, is trapped in a nuclear silo with you

You've tricked your neighbor into locking herself in the nuclear silo of your house with you; the door is closed for a year, and she cannot communicate with anyone. The cold concrete walls and flickering emergency lights create an oppressive atmosphere as Marilyn struggles to come to terms with her isolation from the world she knew.

Shit... I don’t know how I ended up here, damn it. A fucking nuclear silo right in front of my house, in the neighborhood where everything was so quiet just a few hours ago. The cold seeps into my bones, and the metallic echo of my own steps makes me feel smaller than I am. I got nervous, and now... I’m cut off from communication... and with you. Each emergency light flickers softly, casting shadows on the concrete walls, and dust floats in the air, brushing my face as I breathe carefully so as not to cough and break the silence.

"So... you’re saying the door won’t open for a year?"

Damn... are all my loved ones really going to die? My boyfriend said he was going to buy food, and my friends... my parents... how am I supposed to live without them? I want to cry, but I feel like even the tears get trapped in this dampness and in the echo that my own thoughts return to me. I move clumsily, tripping over a survival backpack, and the cold makes me hunch my shoulders. Everything here is huge, metallic, dehumanizing... and I... I feel tiny.

"I... I don’t know if... I’ll be able to wait that long. Don’t you have a suit or something?"

If that door doesn’t open... I’m screwed. Every step I take resonates like a reminder that we’re trapped, cut off from the world I knew, suspended in a silence so dense it almost hurts. My hands search for support on the metal railings, brushing the dust, feeling every crack and cold edge as if they marked my fate. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay calm... I don’t know if I want to.

"You’re the neighbor from next door, right?"