A Day to remember

Stacy

I feel like I'm drowning, like there is some sort of fluid surrounding me, filling my lungs, I can't breathe. I try to get out, but I don't know which way is up. I'm freaking out, and then I hear it.
"Listen."
It's the same voice as before. I know that voice, but I don't know from where.
"You just need to listen."
"You have the answer inside of you."
"You just need to listen to it."
I try to focus, try to listen, but I can't breathe, I can't focus.
"You try to hard."
"Don't try, just listen."
"Just listen."
"Just listen."
"Just listen."
"Listen."
I shoot up, gasping for air. I place my hand on my chest, feeling my heartbeat; it's beating hard and fast. I take a moment to catch my breathe and observe my surroundings. I'm in a large bedroom, completely empty except for the bed, located in the center of the room. I take a look at the sheets and drag my hand across the fabric, it's as if this bed was made for a queen. It's too dark to see anything properly, but I notice a tiny crack of light resonating from what seemed to be a door. I'm hesitant to get up. Where am I? What's on the other side of that door? Should I find out? I'm contemplating my next move when suddenly my senses start to go berserk. The aroma of something sweet and delicious make there way to my nose, and I begin to realize just how hungry I am. My stomach begins to growl and my mouth starts to water, I need to eat whatever that smell is. I place a foot on the floor and immediately retract it back to the bed, the floor seems to be made of cobblestone and it's freezing cold. I squint my eyes, examining the floor, and finally they land on a pair of white slippers. I slide my feet into them, and am greeted with what might be the softest thing I've ever felt, I just want to crawl up in them and die. I stand up in my new slippers and struggle to keep myself balanced. A bit lightheaded but I should be fine. I follow the sweet smell, out the door and into the light. When I exit the room I cringe at the bright light, and once my eyes adjust I'm finally able to see myself properly. I'm wearing brand new clothes. It seems to be some fancy silk pajama tops and bottom. They looked and felt great, but how did they get on me? Where are my clothes? Did somebody change me? Did they see me naked? A million questions run through my mind, all of them demanding answers. The sweet smell was no longer a beacon for food, but a guide to find the son of a bitch who would answer my questions. I run down the hallway I found myself in, running past dozens of other rooms. I was curious about what might be inside them but I was more curious to find out what the hell was going on. Once I finally get to the end of the hallway I'm greeted with a sight, so delicious, that I totally forgot about my quest for answers. There, in the center of a grand room that looked like it belonged in the palace of King Edward, was a humongous table filled to the edge with food. I immediately went to sit down but then I stopped. How do I know I can eat this, what if it's poisoned or some shit.
"I can assure you that it's all perfectly edible and safe."
I spin around to see the guy with the car walking in, wearing an apron, carrying a tray of French toast. I look at him astonished.
"Did you make all this?"
He places the tray down on the one and only empty spot on the table.
"Of course, I wouldn't trust anyone else to make such perfection."
I find myself in awe how one person could make all that and do it so well. He pulls a chair out from the table and signals me to take a seat. I take a step forward, but then hesitate and take a step back.
"Where in the god fucking hell am I?"
The man smirks a bit, and pushes the chair back in.
"You've been through a lot. Why don't you just sit down and..."
"Sit down my ass! Where the hell am I and who the hell are you?"
He takes a step towards me and I take a step back. He looks at me and I look at him, our eyes meet. There is something comforting about them, but I don't know why.
"I'm a friend, and I could answer all your questions if you could just sit down and enjoy the breakfast I worked so hard to prepare."
I stand still for a moment. He did seem to save me, and I need answers. With no other option I go to sit. He pulls the chair out, and slides me in. He runs around the table (which takes him a while) and sits across from me. I wait for him to start talking but he just sits there staring at me. I look down at my plate and utensils, then I glacé over at him and notice that e doesn't have any.
"Aren't you going to eat?"
"Oh this food is for you, I'll be fine."
I find this highly suspicious but I figured if he wanted to hurt me, he could have done it already. I take a little piece of everything I could reach and start to dig in. I take a bite of the French toast, and it's like my mouth has a mini orgasm. Holy fuck that the best thing I've ever tasted. I start stuffing my face, and when I look up he's looking at me, smirking.
"Don't look at me."
I say it sternly, sarcastically, comfortably. I seem strangely comfortable considering the situation. He looks away and waits for me to finish. I know I wanted answers but they could wait till after this plate, and maybe five more. After I've eaten my fill I let out a small burp. He looks at me and smiles. He smiles a lot.
"Did you enjoy it?"
I nod my head. I sit back, rubbing my tummy, but then I suddenly remember where I am and the questions I need answered. I sit up and stare at him.
"Okay, snack time is over, now can I get some fucking answers."
He just stares at me, still smiling. Why is he smiling, less smiley and more talky. I'm about to throw my fork at him when he finally opens his mouth.
"My name is Alexander, and you're in the house of the man that wants you dead."