In the Wrong Place at the Wrong Time

Where were you last night.

Just a few words that most wouldn’t be compelled to answer, yet so much more convincing when followed by a ceremonial hit to the face.

“Where were you last night!?” he asks me again. I attemp to mutter out something like “Why does that matter?” but I’m pretty sure all that comes out was something that sounded a tad bit like, “Blefhsardg.” I suppose after you have been gagged for who knows how long, beaten, and tortured, I am pretty lucky to even get that much out.

Apparently, that wasn’t as ‘in-depth’ as this man wanted, and I see something moving out of the corner of my good eye. I feel the butt of something hit my chest with a sickening thud. After that I coughed up some sort of warm liquid, I wasn’t too sure what it was but had a pretty good idea. I can’t really see what is going on- but what I know is that I am surrounded by at least five people, probably men given their bulky stature. There is a blinding light fixture next to me, but the rest of the room is dark; not the best combination for someone that has been in complete darkness for, again, who knows how long. I anticipate the same query that has been asked of me umpteen times.

My anticipation is answered, now with rising frustration.

“WHERE WERE YOU LAST NIGHT!?” He is practically yelling at me now.  One last time, I try answering him, and I finally manage to get something out to him.

“You aren’t making any sense,” I get out at him, adding what I could of a puzzled facial expression.

It was then that it appeared to me; that choice of words wasn’t the best to use when bound and in the presence of a man angry enough to beat you.

I can tell that he is getting very angry, and that last comment didn’t make anything better. I see him moving, looks like he is doing some sort of yoga exercise. Wrong. Before I can make out what he was doing, I feel a booted heel being driven into my face.

I hear a cracking noise and my nose feels like it is being ripped right off of my face. Before I have the chance to cry out my agony, I realize that I am indeed in too much pain to even speak, and fall deeper and deeper into the depths of unconsciousness, hopefully to awake and realize that that this was all a nightmare. A sick, twisted nightmare…




Chapter One: Reminiscence

I suppose I should “enlighten you” a bit. My name is Luke, Luke Williams. I am currently 17 years old, and am a resident of a tiny little town on the outskirts of Detroit, Michigan called Barksville. I’m basically just your average, everyday 17 year old. I go to Barksville High, and am graduating this year after I turn 18, which is February 3rd. I am usually labeled as a nerd, as I have a 4.0 grade point average and spend a lot of my free time on the computer. Our graduating class is only about 75 kids, so you can imagine how small our town of 5,000 people is.

In Barksville, anything exciting that happens is known within the course of a few days. Let’s just say that not much happens in Barksville- it’s a pretty boring place to live. Nothing was really out of the ordinary until about a month or so ago, January to be precise. Everything going on just seemed a bit “weird”. I spose’ that I can’t really explain it, but everything just seemed to start changing. My favorite restaurant, Eddie’s, closed, along with a bunch of other small, family-run businesses. No one really knew what was going on, and I just kept seeing the owners less, and less. This really hit me hard, as the owner of my favorite restaurant was a good friend of mine. He was always there to give me advice, and in return, I always helped him out around the shop. We weren’t the best of friends, but we still liked each other.

One day I decided to head down to Eddie’s, just to check if he was even there. Eddie was cool guy; you could say that he was pretty popular with everyone in town. The lights were on inside, but the sign that usually flashed the word OPEN was torn down. From my position of about twenty feet away, I noticed that the doorknob was shaking ever so slightly, and that the door began to open up. I was just about to call out to who I thought must have been an employee of Eddie’s, when I realized, he wasn’t an employee at all. I looked about frantically, desperately trying to find a place to hide from this person. I noticed a hair salon next to me that was unusually quiet, so I quickly hid up against that, peering over the edge to watch the events unfold. The man that walked out is one of those guys that you either try to make friends with, or attempt to avoid every time you can. I couldn’t tell if he was bald, but he had this red and black bandana tied on that added a lot to his already “tough guy” appearance.

Although I couldn’t see him that well, his appearance was a thing that I will never forget. Try to remember the darkest, most evil thing in your entire life; that wouldn’t even compare to how scary he looked. He had on a tanktop that was some sort of a dark green shade that had a word printed on the chest that I didn’t know. His arms looked big enough to move an elephant- no joke. I am a pretty skinny boy, kind of tall, too. At his biceps’s largest point, it was barely smaller than my waist. He had the stereotypical ripped jeans on, as well as big black shoes that must have been twice my size. He had a cigarette in his left hand, with a lighter in the other, obviously going out for a smoke. This is when it donned upon me; there was something weird going on at Eddie’s, and being the stupid, curious, 17 year old I was, I decided that I needed to know. That was mistake number one.

I knew that if I were to get caught by this guy, I would be in huge trouble, and that fact alone discouraged me almost as much as my curiosity encouraged me. However, if whatever that was going on required men like this, it must have been something immensely big, or really bad. Or both. I looped around the salon building, noting to myself that no one was inside, and noticing that the man was no where to be found. I also knew that the front door would be definitely off-limits for me to try and get in, as that would be the most protected if something was indeed going on inside. I helped Eddie out with cleaning the place up and taking out the garbage a lot, so I knew that there was a hardly-known-about door around the back of the restaurant, that would be my best chance. I trekked carefully around, remembering that I was most definitely not James Bond- and that I probably couldn’t take on four overly-muscular guys if I indeed got caught: I would have to be careful.

As I went around, I made sure that no one was back there, and was not disappointed. I quickly jogged up to the door, and quietly started to turn the knob, crossing my other fingers, my toes, and whatever else I could cross, hoping that it would have been forgotten about. As I turned it, I realized that the door wouldn’t budge, and my heart sank. I then remembered that I was turning it the wrong way, and hit myself on the forehead to signify my stupidity. I grinned happily as the door began to open, and I stalked into the restaurant. The kitchens were deserted and abandoned- no food anywhere, but I could hear the sound of people talking out in the main room of the building. I crouched and crept up to the door leading in from the main room, eyeing the door suspiciously. With the most caution I could muster, I slowly pushed it open, quickly surveying all that I could.

The lights in the restaurant were dimmed, and conveyer belts replaced the counters, currently off. People were bustling all over, carrying boxes and boxes of something that was labeled ‘Goods’. The people in there weren’t the normal people I had seen around there usually- they were big, rough and tough guys- the type that are bouncers for those prominent night clubs, and all much like the aforementioned scary man. One of them that I fixated on seemed to be the important type- he had a striped white and black jacket on that resembled the coat of a zebra. His head was shaved bald, or he was naturally bald, and he had dark black sunglasses on, probably making it even harder for him to see. On his right and left sides were two really big men, each of them standing at least a foot taller than him, and probably weighing more than 350 pounds each. Their arms were folded, and big biceps protruded from under their black leather jackets. Each of them also chose to damage their vision by wearing the very same black sunglasses.

In front of them was a man on his knees, in red-splotched grey clothing.

An odd clothing choice if you ask me, I thought to myself quietly.

He was talking to zebra-coat man apparently, and looked pretty desperate, as he was on his knees. His pleads were obviously going unnoticed from the blank stare of zebra-coat man and his two goons, but apparently annoying him as the scowl shown on his face began to get bigger and bigger as the man’s cries were going unnoticed. The scowling man then folded back the side of his jacket and reached into his pants to grab something. When he pulled it out, I nearly screamed. It was a handgun! Zebra-coat then loaded the clip and aimed it at the groveling man, directly at his forehead. That’s when I realized that the man wasn’t wearing red and grey clothes, only grey ones. The red wasn’t dye- it was blood. My heart lurched up my body into my throat, and in suspense I kept watching- that was mistake number two. Zebra-coat pulled back part of the gun to load it, and the bloodied man began to sob uncontrollably.

Finally, the suspense was ended when the man began to put the gun away, and I let out a sigh of relief, as did the unrecognizable man on his knees. Right when he got me to believe he was going to live, in one motion, he turned around, aimed, and shot. The shot was silenced, but I could hear it. Grey-shirted man didn’t die instantly, though; he began to scream in pain, until a second was fired, and a bullet lodged itself somewhere in his body that was vital to survival, as he stopped screaming instantly. I couldn’t really see what happened, but I knew. As grey-shirt began to fall, he turned around, as if asking me, “Why didn’t you do anything?” However, despite the blood gurgling out of his mouth, I noticed something familiar about him… I thought to myself, thinking of all of the possible people that could have been.

Finally, as his head almost hit the ground, his eyes seemed to widen a tad bit more as they looked directly into mine, and I knew who it was.

A storekeeper, murdered in his own store.
That last look from him really just set me off. Like I said, Eddie and I were good friends, but we weren’t that close. I helped him out a bit, but I never really got to know him. You never realize what you have until it’s gone, and that’s the truth. I never realized how great of a person he was until I noticed how much I depended on him. Almost every time I needed help with some sort of problem, he was there to willingly offer a solution, and help me out with financial problems with part-time jobs during the summer. Before I could even realize what I was doing, an instinct empowered me to cry out for my lost friend, of which I couldn’t help. That was mistake number three.

As sad as I was for this man to die, I know now that I should have waited to mourn. My sudden cry got everyone’s attention, which was something that I didn’t want.

Zebra-coat apparently didn’t take to kind to having an outsider witness his murders, and he yelled out something in a foreign language that I didn’t understand, but inferred to be something like,

“GET HIM!”

All attention in the place turned on me, and to be blunt, heck broke loose. Many of the boxes were toppled over, sprawling out their contents for everyone to see. I think I was better off being curious than I was after that. Tons and tons of guns, now strewn all over the floor. Finally, I realized what was happening. Although I wasn’t quite positive, I was pretty sure. The bald man must have taken over Eddie’s because he wanted the place to make or do something with these weapons… That would make sense, as Eddie must have been a liability to them, so they had to kill him!  Unfortunately, I didn’t really have the time to survey the area anymore, as bullets were firing at my general direction, and people were running towards me. I saw one guy get gunned down by his own men, but that didn’t even faze the charging henchmen.

I turned, looking for somewhere to hide. I guess that before I could find a spot, fear took over me, and I began to lunge away from them, ducking and weaving through the deserted kitchens and out the somewhat hidden door in the back. I’m not the fastest kid ever, but boy did I run. Despite the disadvantage, I kept running and running as hard as I could. I took a few turns, but mostly kept going in a straight line, as that is easier than running in all of these zig-zaggy patterns. Running throughout this part of town got me to realize how much had actually changed because of the bald man in the jacket and his cronies… The houses in this part of Barksville weren’t particularly nice, but they were fine enough for the occupants. As I thought about this, I wondered why no one had heard the yelling and the gunshots. I scanned the area as I fled away from the attackers, my slate grey pupils darting from location to location, and realized that I was alone. Never in my life had I faced such a feeling of desolation; I mean, of course I wasn’t the most popular kid at school, but there was always someone there for me. This time, I was completely secluded. The houses looked like they were transported here from some sort of ghost town- doors were left hanging ajar, windows were broken, and front lawns were left in shambles. I knew that I couldn’t keep running forever, as no matter how high my adrenaline was, I wasn’t built for it. However, it was high enough to keep me a good distance away from them, and after a few sharp turns, I actually thought that I would be able to get away from them.

Then reality hit me.

They were chasing me into a corner that I couldn’t escape. Behind me was the bulk of the group, clambering over each other to try and reach me the first. To my right were a number of them as well. However, they forgot to seal off my left side, so at a broken down apartment, I took a sharp left turn to try and shake the advancers.

I thought that I could get away from them if just ran a little bit harder, and although I was panting harder than I ever have before, this little shard of hope gave me the strength to keep going. However, not all of the variables in my “equation for escape” were controlled. As I turned, my momentum was at its peak. I rotated my hips to go around the corner and keep running, rather than stop, but someone had beat me there. The last thing I remember from then was a beast of a right hook pummeling into my face, catching me right below my left eye. My momentum was so high, it was devastating to stop suddenly, and the inertia in my lower body kept going, even though my head was stopped immediately. These two equated into quite a bad combination, and I’m pretty sure I flipped over, landing right on my face, though I was pretty hazy then from the punch, and I’m not sure. As much as I would have wanted to get up and keep going, my body was in so much pain that I couldn’t move, and the wind was knocked out of my from the abruptness of the blow. I tried to fight off the unconsciousness, but to no avail.

I awoke to lying in the back of a truck, bound, blindfolded and gagged. My mouth hurt more than I ever could have imagined from behind left ajar for that long of a time, and the chafing from the sweaty bandana around my lips didn’t help out too much. My back hurt from being all cramped up, and my arms hurt from being bound behind my back. It sucked.

Finally, the blindfold is taken off, and the gag is undone. They begin to untie my hands and sit me down in a chair. Much to my disappointment, all they did was rebind my hands, this time behind the chair. I also found that my feet were being tied, so there was no way that I was going anywhere without the chair.  Then, the questioning began. I could tell that people were moving about in the darkness, but I couldn’t see them, as there was no light fixture whatsoever in the room. I heard a clicking noise to my right, and all of the sudden, a blinding light came into existence, blurring everything out of my sight. I knew that I wouldn’t go blind, but it was still very painful and reassurance would have been wonderful at that point.

Chapter Two: Questions

Finally, we are at where I am at, presently. I don’t really know what is going on, and my glasses are nowhere to be found. I look around, but everything is too blurry and grey to see. I see a big blob in front of me that is probably a person, but I have no way to actually know what is going on or who it is. I try to squint and see if that helps any, but to no avail, I still can’t see at all. Finally, I hear someone speaking, but the ringing sensation in my ears makes it too hard to hear what he says. I mutter out a hoarse,

“What?” I didn’t really think that I said anything wrong, Apparently the man in front of me thinks that my attitude is somewhat rebellious in nature, and he gets into my face and begins to yell at me. I can’t understand anything that he is saying, either it is too fast, or it is in that cursed foreign language again. I look about frantically, and the man just keeps yelling louder and louder, as if he thinks that I am deaf. I feel tears begin to flow down my cheeks in a hot, steady stream. Finally, he stops yelling abruptly. The only sound in the room now is the sound of my silent sobbing.

My sight is beginning to recover, but is still nothing near what it is at normally. I can tell the guy is brooding over what to do; only I’m not sure what between. I look all around me, trying to figure out where I am while I still can. Finally, the man asking me the same question again breaks the awkward silence,

“Where. Were. You. Last. Night.” he says. I wish that I knew what he meant! I wasn’t doing anything last night of interest; unless he is trying to get me to admit I was in the store? Have I been here that long? I’m confused, puzzled, and I don’t know what to do, so I try to extract some more information from him.

“I don’t know. I can’t tell you because I don’t know when last night was.” I tell him honestly. The man doesn’t like my response, and yells aloud no word in particular, just yells. I don’t need him to tell me, I know that he is fed up with me, but what am I supposed to do if I don’t even know when he is talking about!? Before I can move out of the way, I feel a very sharp stinging pain on the left side of my cheek, which did not complement the bruise I retained from the knockout blow at the apartment complex. I cry out aloud, realizing that the man slapped me. At least I wasn’t punched again.

Before I knew what was happening, I was being untied from the chair. My crying began to falter, and my cheek still hurt terribly, but I would be okay. I feel myself being lifted into the air by two very strong arms, and being put on the shoulders of someone. Not sitting, mind you, just strung over them like some sort of bath towel. I feel that we begin to move, and an idea pops into my head. He only has one arm around me, what would happen if I were to try and shimmy off of him, and make for an escape? I play the situation out of my head, and decide that I would be better off just sitting there, waiting for whatever they had in store for me. Soon enough, we get to a darkened area, and I can tell that we are on some sort of hard flooring, as the footsteps are echoing quite loudly. We stop.

I hear the sliding of metal; I wonder what they are doing? Before I have the chance to find out for myself, I discover that I am hurdling through the air, the man threw me! I can’t tell what is going on, and I hit the hard flooring with a hard smack. Luckily enough, my face broke my fall. I feel myself begin to black out again, and desperately try to fight off the urge. I can tell that I am bleeding from my nose, and maybe somewhere else, but am not sure where else I am hurt from. I wage the dying battle against falling unconscious, and muster up all of my willpower to keep my eyes open and my senses still intact. Slowly and painfully, I crawl over to a wall and attempt to draw myself into a sitting position. I fail. I can’t do anything as I fall back down onto the ground, my right cheek absorbing the impact. I groan, and try again, barely making it, but I attained succession. My arms are burning up from being left dormant in one place for evidently a very long time, and my back really hurts from being all cramped up. I look around…

Where am I?

Chapter Three: Confinement

I find myself in some sort of an iron cell; like one of those places that they have in state penitentiaries used to confine dangerous criminals. I half expected that I was just in a really bad nightmare, but, as much as I wanted to believe it to be true, I knew that I wasn’t. I look to my right, and then to my left, taking note of my surroundings. I think that the material the walls are made from is just simple stone, but I’m not positive, as my left eye is still shot. I can sort of see out of my right one, but not very well, as the room is quite dark. I look to my right, noticing a small, shabby bed. I smile as much as a can without hurting myself, which isn’t very much, and began to hobble and crawl my way over to the gift from the heavens. To the normal person, the bed would probably seem repulsive, but not to me. My sense of smell is basically as bad as my left eye, so I can’t really tell if it smells as bad as it looks.

I braced myself, for getting into the bed would definitely be an adventure worth chronicling. I put both hands up onto the bed, and gripped it as tight as I could. I began to tense my muscles as I try pulling myself up onto the angel in disguise, the ugly miracle. The bed’s filthy green sheets slide around as I try and use them for leverage, trying my hardest to get into it. My spine feels like it is on fire, and my arms are giving me more trouble than what they’re worth. Finally, I get my stomach onto the bed, which is all that I need. The springs squeak when I move, but I don’t mind. None of my senses are working too well right now. As I clambered into the thing, I thought deeply. Would it be better to just not wake up? To stay sleeping?

No.
I must keep going.

Before I can think any further on the subject, I feel a sudden head rush. It takes me by surprise, and I double over in anguish. The ringing sound. Please make it stop.

I feel my vision blurring, the colors entwining together like some sort of New Year display. I can’t control my urge to sleep this time. I close my eyes, and I feel so relaxed. All control over my body and its functions go away as I am finally in paradise...


… I wake up, my body sore, but not in pain. I am not sure how long I slept for, but at least I woke up. I need to keep going. Even if I end up at a blocked path with nowhere else to go, I must keep going. For Eddie’s sake.

Just saying his name again makes me remember what happened. The man drawing his gun, toying with our emotions and us by putting it away. I remember the first shot, the second. The pain and suffering in his eyes. I wish that I wouldn’t have been so scared- I could have saved him. Despite being alive, I begin to cry. I would, now, give anything for one of my only friends to still be breathing. However, it doesn’t matter, as I couldn’t save him. All because I am helpless in the face of danger. The kids at school were right.

I am weak.

But I will still make Eddie proud. If I have to run the width of the world five times in a row, I will do it. Whatever it takes, I will make him proud.

I hear footsteps and try to draw myself into a sitting position. All of my joints creak and ache, but I make it. I sit against the cold, stone wall, peering out of the bars guarding me. I spot someone with my good eye; he has some sort of a light with him so that he can see. He shines it into my “cage” and begins banging it on the bars, yelling at me to come over to him. I know that resistance is futile, so I begin to rise. I can’t get up the first time that I try, and I fall back down to the bed with a painful thump. I try again, get to my feet. My head was racing every which-way, and it hurt to stand. I begin to move my right leg, and the burning sensation is almost unbearable. It hurt to walk, but by God, I walked. I make it to the man, and lean on the cell doors, winded. I subsequently pant a few times, but calm down, and wait for him to break the silent atmosphere.

Finally, after a few moments that seem to drag on ten times longer than they should have, the man spoke to me again.

“You are wanted for more interrogation. Can you walk.” he bluntly inquired of me. I know that I have to respond, however painful it might be.

“Yes,” I mutter out in a barely audible, coarse voice. My head slightly shakes up and down inadvertently, just enough so that I don’t receive any pain, but enough to notice. The man fumbles in his pocket for a few moments, and I catch the ringing jingle of keys. Soon enough, the door begins to open and he turns around, signaling to me subtly that I am supposed to follow him. Each step is worse than needles through nerves. Each step is worse than the last. However, I at least retain some of my intelligence, and know that if I begin to falter or show my weakness, they will play on that and make it worse for me, but it is so hard. Each time I move a leg, it shoots a wave of suffering and torment through my entire body.

We keep walking for what seems like hours, I fight back tears on each step now. The only thought that keeps me driving on and on through the agony is the thought of seeing my family again. My mom, my dad: the two figures in my life that I adore and love the most, both even above Eddie. I’m not even sure if I will ever meet them again, but just the thought of it is enough for me. Our footsteps begin to fade away as we near a softer surface, the echo of the black, dressy shoes that I often wear dissipating. As we continue our journey, I notice that I can actually begin to see my surroundings, unlike my dark and dingy cell that has no light source whatsoever. My thoughts are interrupted abruptly as he stops, making me run into him painfully. I bite down on my lip, hard, to make sure that I don’t cry out in pain. I taste the taste of my own sultry blood, and barely suppress tears. The man looks back at me, and I shoot an annoyed look at him, trying to seem the most tough that I can.

He turns around and reaches for something. I hear a clicking noise. I peer over the man’s should and realize that he is turning a doorknob- most likely bringing me into the interrogation room again. The pain in my legs now begins to subside, but they are still agonizingly painful. I flash a thought of what my parents look like through my mind, just to make sure I remember them if I don’t make it out. I remember my previous encounter with that very room. I remember all of the times that I was hit by the screaming man, and I shiver coldly. A hand leads me to the center of the room, to that very same chair I was in earlier. I sit down so that they don’t have to force me, and expectantly put my arms behind the chair. I feel a rope being bound around my wrists, and all of the fiery anguish comes searing back to life, rearing its ugly head with renewed ferocity. I close my eyes shut to try and keep my tears within me, and bite again on my already punctured lip to keep myself from crying out. I bite down so hard that I taste the blood again, the only liquid I have drank in a long while. I spit it out onto the ground absentmindedly and look up, awaiting my persecutor.

I see movement out of the corner of my good eye, my right one. I see the very same man that I did before, but this time in greater detail. I nearly screamed right then and there.

Red and black bandana…

Dark green tank top.

Big muscles.

Cigarette in hand.


I was nearly scared speechless- I couldn’t believe that it was him. My slate grey eyes lit up instantaneously as I saw him reach for something in his pocket, wondering what it was and why he needed it. I felt the icy cold fingers of fear and realization slowly creep up my shoulders, their insatiable hunger for trepidation among me chilling me down to my core. My forehead began to profusely sweat; one drop of the translucent liquid beading down my cheek after another. I felt my blood chill instantaneously, the bustling main arteries of my bodies that were once like the ever-lively Wall Street, slowly down to the forsaken paths of the uninhabitable wasteland of Antarctica.

All because of one item that he had drawn. A handgun.

My eyes open ever wider than what I had thought possible, and it is impossible to think straight. The pain in my body goes away as fear clouds over almost every function in my body.

“One last time. Where were you last night? If you do not respond in a way appreciated by myself, all you will have to worry about is how many shots I will take to kill you,” the man’s dark and ominous voice boomed out at me. I don’t know what to say, I’m not sure when last night was, so I can’t give an accurate answer. I finally muster up enough courage to respond.

“I… uh… sorry, but um, I-I don’t r-really know w-when that.. uhm… was…” I stutter out in broken speech. The man glowers in anger and frustration. But finally, God sends me a gift, and he responds.

“We found you at Eddie’s this afternoon. What were you doing the night before,” he says to me. I now understand the question, but I don’t understand why he would ask that of me. I was just at my house studying for a really big test that I was supposed to have on Friday, which might be today. I wasn’t doing anything of interest to him, but I figure I should still answer, The gun is pointed at the ground inadvertently, so I ease up a bit,

“I-I was, uh, at my, my, house. St-studying for a t-test, Sir.” I manage to get out.
“DON’T LIE TO ME,” he yells at me, standing directly in front of my face.

“WHERE WERE YOU LAST NIGHT!?” he shouts at me again, now apparent to me that he knows the answer, but he wants me to say it to him. Problem is, I don’t know what the right answer is… Before I can answer, he begins to accuse me more.

“I know you were not at your house last night, you were off with Eddie. You are going to tell me the whole story of what happened, otherwise I will kill you.”

“I-I’m s-sorry, sir. I wa-wa-wasn’t w-with Eddie las-last night…”

Wait a minute. Why does it even matter if I was with Eddie last night? Did something happen? I am still scared silly by the man in front of me, I wish I knew what was actually going on. I know that I didn’t do anything last night, but apparently this man thinks that I did. My thoughts are interrupted again as he begins to speak to me again, his level of frustration rising quickly.

“YES YOU WERE. Thought’ I told you not to lie to me! I know what you’re doing with Eddie, or at least, what you were doing with him. Before we intervened, that is.”

I am starting to get angry with him insulting my best friend, but since I can’t physically do anything to the large elephant like man, all I can do is try and ease up my fear.

“Then t-te-tell me what I was doing.” I shoot back at him snidely. I don’t know what in the world possessed me to say to the man what I did, but I did. Perhaps it was the fact that he was bad-mouthing my best friend after he and his dumb friends shot him to death. I felt my blood boil.

“You were helping Eddie, your friend and partner, to smuggle illegal weaponry into his small restaurant. That explains why he closed it weeks prior. Lucky the United States intervened,” he spat out at me.

Wait just one more minute. What? I felt another head rush coming on, this time much, much worse than the last one. Everything, even the gargantuan in front of me began to dissipate into nothingness. All I see is white, endless whiteness. The faces of my friends pass through the open space- first mom, then dad, and then that traitor. The entire reason I was put through this experience was because of him. I was beaten, tortured, starved, gagged, and more, all because of someone who didn’t even care about me. My blood began to boil, and I wished that he was still alive for a different reason than before. In fact, I wish that I was with him right now, just to show him what I feel about him. I can’t think anymore now, everything is spinning and dizzy, my head is filled with raging agony, much worse than before.

I begin to laugh as I fall onto the floor of the whiteness. This all has to be a nightmare… Just a nightmare…

A sick… twisted… nightmare…