Death Race

Prologue

I'm lying here in the hospital bed where HE put me. They say I won't wake up for a while. They also keep saying "Poor boy" & things like "He might never wake up."
The doctors say I'm in something called a "coma", I'm not sure what that means but I'm sure it's bad. Everything associated with a hospital and HIM are bad.
I didn't want to be here, standing besides the bed looking at myself. I looked peacefully unaware of what was really going on. Then HE walked in, like the Devils advocate that I knew him to be.
How could they just let him saunter in here! Don't they know who he is! They think he is my father! Like I would ever be related to a monster like him!
HE put me here!
HE HAS DONE THIS TO ME!
HE told me how he has done this kind of thing before. The sick bastard. He has told me about his other "toys" the people he has "played" with. HIS victims. How he admits his "toys" to the hospital to be fixed or to "throw away" the ones he doesn't like any more. HE told me how he gets off on watching them be so helpless. Disgusting! If only I could move my limbs! I'd sock him where he stood. And see how he likes being the helpless one. The one in the coma....
HE told me how he doesn't kill them right away. And sometimes doesn't kill them at all.
So it's a race. A race against death. A race to live. To fight. A race to kill the serial killer.