The air is still when I wake.
Flat, recycled and quiet in a way that feels familiar.
My eyes adjust slowly as I drag them across the ceiling then to the walls.
No windows.
No clock.
I am back in the same four corners I remember. Same sterile gray walls, dim lighting and that heavy door with no fucking handle on this side.
I am back in the room they gave me when this all started. If I can call it that but it's not a cell, just something in between. Just a limbo of muted colors and carefully placed illusions.
The blanket is the same too. It's too soft and too clean. It's the kind of luxury that makes your skin itch because it isn't about comfort... It's more or less about this psycho's twisted psychological game. The last thing I remember was being drugged... how long have I been out for?
A strangled scream tears from the center of my chest before I can stop it.
I sit up fast and hurl the nearest pillow across the room. It hits the vanity table with a hollow thud knocking something ove
