I woke up feeling completely weak. Too weak to even to open my eyes. So I let myself rest for what seems to have been an hour, when in reality it was most likely I've minutes.
As the seconds ticked on a distant grandfather clock, I regained enough strength to lift my head. As soon as I lifted my head, a searing jolt of pain ran through my head. I groaned as my head fell back in agony. A breeze ran through the room I'm in that chilled me to the bone.
Without opening my eyes, I go to reach up and rub my arms to keep myself warm but something tugs on my wrists, keeping them from moving.
After a moment of confusion, I realize that I have no idea where I'm at. I force my head up to look around the room, ignoring the pain that never seems to go away from my head.
I'm in some sort of basement with nothing in the barren room except for me and the rusty chair that I'm strapped to.
I look down to see a drain with blood stains around it. I twist and turn to check myself out to see what they did to me but I didn't find anything unusual which calmed me down.
That is, until I heard voices coming closer to the door at the top of the stairs.
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My (not-so) superman
Ficção AdolescenteWalking alone on a cold, bitter night in Woodstock isn't the best thing to do for a 17 year old. Even if you just fought with your mom. The freaky mist unnaturally crawling across the damp road while very new gas guzzlers pass through; and creepy me...
