Read to the End

What Did I Do?

Blank.

Empty.

I don't know who I am. I don't know where I am.

It's cold. And wet.

A steady throbbing, like someone continually pounding my head with a fist, makes me flinch.

I try to stand, but my legs ache as though they've been asleep and are coming out of hibernation. I feel nauseated. Bile races its way up through my throat.

I vomit. And vomit some more.

The gore smacks against a brick wall. Looking around, I realize I'm in an alleyway. Blackened snow piles up along the walls. A small flurry sprinkles down overhead.

The feeling in my legs comes back completely. Unsteady, I stand. But as I lift myself up, a fresh wave of nausea hits.

I vomit again.

The back of my throat burns with acid. I let out a scream of exasperation.

The pounding continues on my skull. I grab my head with both hands and try to push the pain away. It's useless.

My hands feel sticky. Pulling them down, I notice they're covered in viscous, syrupy blood.

I heave, but I'm all out of vomit. Bile seeps from my mouth.

I cry.

What is happening?

That's when I notice flashing red and white lights hitting the walls of the alley. I don't hear a siren.

I yell, "Help!"

Men in suits rush the alley. Guns drawn.

"Please help!"

I feel like I may be seeing things because, instead of coming to my aid, the men surround me and shout. They spit contradictory commands at me.

"Hands up!"

"Don't move!"

"Get on the ground!"

I repeat my plea, "Please help. I don't know who I am. I don't know what's happening."

It feels like I'm being smothered by an elephant. My knees buckle, my body trembles. As I go down, I see a man lying on the ground a few paces away from me.

He's unconscious.

Smack. I hit the ground and follow suit.

***
"Wake up!" A voice snarls.

My eyelids feel like lead, but I comply. The man standing above me wears an untailored suit and an overly-angry expression on his unshaven face. He's got a toothpick sticking out of his mouth. Spittle drips from it onto his beard. I don't recognize him.

"Finally," he mumbles.

Blinding white light surrounds him like a halo. But it's clear this man is no angel.

"Let's get right to it," he says. "You're going away for a long time. But if you cooperate, we can make it more comfortable for you."

I feel lightheaded. What is he talking about?

"Just tell us where you have the girl stashed."

Girl? What girl? He's talking, but the words might as well be Mandarin. I shake my head, trying to break out of this nightmare, and get back to where things make sense.

"No? Hey guy, if the girl dies, you go down for two murders. Is that what you want?"

"I...I don't know what you're talking about," I stammer.