David Collins had no idea where he
was, or how he had gotten there. He woke up in a dark room staring up at a
ceiling that he did not recognize. His entire body ached, like he had been hit
by a truck or something. Maybe he had been, for all he knew. He tried to sit
up. His body would not cooperate. His heart raced as a panicked feeling shot
through his body. He wondered if he might actually be paralyzed.
He
tried to scream out for help, but no words would come. He closed his eyes and
tried to calm down. This wasn't real, he told himself, it couldn't be. He was
probably just having a bad dream, that was the only explanation that made
sense. How could he be in some room and not have any idea of how he got there?
In the old days when he was drinking and doing some pretty hardcore drugs it
was a fairly regular occurrence, but not these days. He had been clean and
sober for almost five years now and had even gone out and found a job. Sure, it
was a shitty job with shitty pay, but at least it was honest work.
David
opened his eyes again and waited until his vision adjusted to the dark. He
looked around the room, finally able to move his head a bit. He was on a wooden
floor and it was cold. It looked like he was in a work shed of some sort. He
needed to see more, so he took a deep breath and used all the strength he could
muster to pull himself up. It wasn't easy, but he managed to get himself
propped up against the wall. He closed his eyes, feeling nauseous, he took some
more deep breaths.
In
a minute or two he felt better. He looked around the room again. Yes, he was
definitely in a work shed of some sort. It was completely empty except for a
large metal table in the middle of the room. Using the wall for support, he
pulled himself to his feet and looked across the room. He was not prepared for
what he saw lying on top of the table. Dumbfounded, he stared in silence for
over a minute, hoping that he wasn't really seeing what he was really seeing.
Sounds like a good read.
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