before i could even say anything, i woke up.
i woke up on the floor in a white room. everything around me was white. i looked down. my clothes were white and my arms were tied up. i tried to scream but only muffled noise came out. there was something on my face preventing me from being able to scream.
i was in a padded cell.
i heard a knock coming from somewhere. then, someone walked in.
"time for breakfast," the monotone voice said.
the blurry took off my mouth piece, allowing me to speak and finally let out noise.
"w-what is this place? where am i?," i said, my voice shaking and my heart thumping frantically.
"your memory issues are kicking in again. it must be the shots. i'll ask the doctor to provide you with new medication. but, if you must know, as i tell you everyday, you are in here for the murder of Rick Astley, the man who promoted the pickles at your local grocery store. the only thing you seem to remember is the fact that he wore a pickle suit and that he promoted pickles," he responded, still somehow keeping the same monotone voice.
still in disbelief, i somehow managed to respond. "but, wouldn't i be in jail if that were the case? and not a padded cell?"
"you see, the thing is-" what? what was he saying? all i could see was the room spinning and his mouth moving, but no sound was coming out. only ringing. my vision slowly went dark and my eyelids fluttered. the next thing i could process was the fierce, sour smell. the same, familiar one.
it was none other than the smell of pickles.
