I woke with a start.
“Where am I?”
Sitting upright in a darkened room, I try to reach out with my senses to tell me where I am. Cold, inelegant metal bites into my legs and wrists.
“What the?” I softly question myself.
I come to realize the room isn’t dark, my face is covered by unfinished leather. I feel the same around my chest and waist. My chair is hard and unforgiving as I struggle modestly against my restraints. I feel someone approach my side.
But I am not comforted.
The presence roughly paws against my head with a cold, wet sponge. The cold I knew is now replaced with something much more powerful now, terror.
I struggle more passionately now.
“What’s going on?” I raise my voice to the presence.
The only reply I receive is a sharp blow to the side of my head and a chuckle.
I soon become aware of two more things, the ticking of a clock and the rumbling of a small audience.
As I shout my last words, “Why am I here?” I struggle to understand.
I can hear the switch being pulled into action.