Anna is submerged in a gleaming tub of water, her head resting on the rim. The city lights twinkle through the misty air, creating a surreal backdrop for the silence enveloping her. The steam from the hot bath has fogged up the large window beside her, obscuring the view of the night sky. Anna feels beads of sweat rolling down her face and neck, but she makes no move to wipe them off. Her eyes are glued to the blank ceiling, as if searching for something. The vapors that drift out of the bathroom seem to mock her, reminding her of her current situation.

The bathroom door swings open and a towering figure steps in, carrying a large bucket in his hand. Anna jerks her head to face him and forces a smile, "Hey, baby. Don't you think this is the longest bath ever? It's getting really hot here, I might even faint any minute." She tries to sound casual, and even ends her sentence in an awkward chuckle, but her voice betrays a hint of nervousness.

The man walks over to the tub and sets the bucket down on the floor. He bends down to Anna's level and locks his eyes with hers. He reaches out his arm and touches her forehead, feeling the heat radiating from her skin. She is scorching hot. Her face is flushed as if she is in the grip of a raging fever.

"See, it's really hot. I'm burning up, aren't I? Frank, baby, I'm sure this beauty bath will work wonders... I can already feel my skin coming off." Anna says with a strained smile. She lowers her eyes and adds, "And these ropes... they're so tight, you know. I didn't realize you had kinks like these. But it's okay, I'm a freak, just like you."

Frank peers into the water and scans her body. It's slim and has an hourglass shape that many girls would envy, but the rest of her features are concealed by the coils of ropes that wrap her to the tub. Frank, with a blank expression, nods his head as he sees how much of her skin has ripped and peeled off.

Anna's breaths become more labored and her beatiful amber eyes barely stay open. She watches Frank as he stands up and lifts the bucket with both hands. One on the handle and the other supporting the bottom. He's about to pour its contents into the bath.

"I don't think I need more... water, baby. You know I love you, right? So lets get out of here and enjoy the rest of our night." Her smile fades and shes finishes with, "Please, Frank. No more."

But Frank is unmoved by her begging. He dumps the bucket of water that bubbles and hisses into the bath. Anna shrieks in pain as the boiling water mixes with the bathwater and scalds her skin. He has been doing this for over two hours, boiling water in the kitchen and bringing it here.

Anna has tried to convince him to stop, but he's deaf to her cries. He hasn't uttered a word to her since he assaulted her. After weakening her, it didn't take long for him to strip her naked and tie her up. He then lifted Anna and tossed her into the bathtub in a matter of seconds. She screamed for help, but Frank owned the whole floor of the building. It was just him and her, isolated by soundproof walls and doors.

He watches her squirming in vain, trying to move, but the ropes bind her from head to toe. She can only move like a worm, sliding around inside the porcelain tub. She's powerless and helpless. Frank turns on the faucet and lets the hot water gush out. It fills the tub and overflows to the floor, but he doesn't care. He only cares about seeing his prey struggle to live.

"Franky... Please! Please, don't leave me like this!" Anna screams, but her voice echoes through the marble floors and walls with no one to hear. Her tormentor stands there, unmoved by her pleas. He ignores her tears, her pain, her fear. He leans close to her and strokes her damp hair. Then he turns around and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Anna feels a cold shiver run through her spine. A feeling she has come to understand very well. The presence of death, looming over her like a dark shadow. She knows she is about to die, and there's nothing she can do to stop it. Anna counts the minutes, each one slower than the last.

Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Thirty minutes.

That's how long it took for Anna to die. Her eyes lose focus and roll back to her head, and her skin turns crimson. Then it's only moments until she passed out because of the heat. But her cause of death this time? Suffocation. Her lungs failed her and stopped functioning. Her unconscious body gasped for air that never came.

The world fades to black, but Anna's conciousness persists through the nothingness. She hears a noise familiar to her, smiliar to a record player spinning backwards. It fills the darkness with a distorted melody. Then, suddenly, she is back in the familiar hallway entrance for the tenth time this night. Her hands already stretched towards a hanger on the wall, about to hang her purse and jacket. Then, fully knowing what happens next, a voice from behind will say the same words, with the same tone, for the tenth time. In one, two, three;

"What's the matter, Anna? Put your stuff and let me show you my cooking skills I always told you about." Frank said with a cheerful and warm tone. His voice echoes in the narrow hallway, masking his true intentions. He locks the door behind him, trapping her inside while she still stood beside the hanger.

"Okay, Frank. I'm excited to see you cook." Anna said while forcing a smile. It's was difficult for her this time as her face wanted to contort into an expression of hate but her line of work taught her to show a face the world wants to see. 

Anna hangs her belongings and braces herself for his next words. "I've been living here for a year now, and I really like it, but the entrance is so long and narrow. It's a weird design flaw. But I guess it's like-" Anna interrupts him and finishes his sentence, "It's like a runway, right? Perfect for me to show off my walk. You would love to see a supermodel doing her thing, right?

Frank is startled for a moment but he recovers and says, "I would adore to see you walk from here and back. A solo show from Anna Svoboda is priceless. Especially with the red dress you are wearing tonight. Many men would kill for an opportunity like this."

The irony Anna thinks to herself but she doesn't hesitate for a second and begins thrusting one leg forwards and launches into a catwalk for the tenth time. Her hips swing from side to side, creating a rhythmic motion as her legs cross with each step. Her arms are rigid, glued to her sides. Her expression twists into a scowl of rage as her face is hidden for the eyes of her soon to be killer.

She stops at the invisible line that marks the end of this runway of death. Beyond it lies the living room, where Frank would dash to her if she crosses it and asks her to halt. Anna flicks her eyes to the kitchen, where glimmer of hope could awat. If she could sprint there and grab a knife, she might have a chance. But she doesn't know where he hid the sharp blades. Should she risk it now, or wait for another oppotunity when she eventually circles back to the begininng? Anna's thoughts made her linger there longer than usual, and then, Frank's voice came from behind, "Don't make me wait, Anna. I want to see you walk to me."

"Suspense, Frank. Suspense." Anna taunts as she spins around and resumes her catwalk to him. She reaches the hanger again and poses with one hand on her hip. Frank applauds and gestures for her to walk in front of him to the living room. The ticking of an antique clock in the corner fills the room. For Anna, the countdown to her death begins now.