My story isn't one for the faint of heart. I don't really know who it's for, but I'm writing it so I can remember. I have no idea how many days it's been down here. I'm locked in a cold, musty cellar with white-washed bricks and a cement floor. And that's not even the worst part. I can't remember my life before it.
I remember bits and pieces. Mostly in my dreams. But as far as I'm concerned, my life started when I woke up here with a raging headache, blood dripping down my forehead, and a searing hot leg that I only noticed when I looked down and saw it bent in the opposite direction. My leg is healed now, so it must have been at least two months.
The man that put me here is the one who brings me my meals, my water, and my fresh clothes. Today he left the door open when he left. And now I'm staring at the heavy metal door, trying to decide if it's a trap. I have a choice to make, but it doesn't feel that way. I know I'm going to venture outside and up those creaky stairs. I know that whatever lies beyond this place is going to change the course of my life forever.
It's time to go.
YOU ARE READING
Ambiguity
Mystery / ThrillerFour months and four days. That's how long I've been alone here. Naturally, I'm seeing things. People that aren't actually here. But that's to be expected of a socially deprived brain. Yesterday, he came to my door. At first I thought he was anothe...
