Hana — -jbd-202- I Was Tied Up By My My Neighbor

“You’re number 202,” she said calmly.

Don’t answer the knock. End of entry.

Today, she asked me to write this. “Document your experience,” she said. “Be honest. For the record.”

That was my first mistake.

“You’ll leave when I’m done,” she said. “But you won’t tell anyone. Because I’ll know if you do.”

I was wrong.

Hana sat across from me on a plastic stool, legs crossed, holding a spiral notebook. -JBD-202- I Was Tied Up By My My Neighbor Hana

If you live next to a quiet woman named Hana, and she smiles a little too long when she sees you…

Over the past two days, I’ve learned a few things. She’s done this before. The notebook is filled with names, dates, and entries labeled “JBD” — her personal case files. She calls herself a “collector.” Not of things. Of people. Of their fears.

It started with a knock. Tuesday evening, just after 8 p.m. Rain was coming down hard. Hana stood at my door, soaked through, asking to borrow a phone charger. Her voice shook — said her power had gone out, and she needed to call her mom. I didn’t think twice. I let her in. “You’re number 202,” she said calmly

Here’s a write-up for a fictional or creative piece titled The tone is suspenseful, psychological, and slightly dark, written in first-person narrative style. JBD-202: I Was Tied Up By My Neighbor Hana Log Entry — Day 3 of captivity

Yesterday, she brought me a sandwich and a glass of water. She untied one of my hands to let me eat. I thought about grabbing her, but her eyes — flat, calm, patient — told me she’d already planned for that. There was a knife in her lap. Not a threat. A fact.

I remember the sting in my neck. A needle. Then the floor rushing up to meet me. Today, she asked me to write this

I believed her.