‘-cant believe I was so-‘ Johns mind grinds to a halt. He cant seem to recall what he was just thinking about. As elegant as it was frustrating that thought disappeared. Come to think of it John had no idea where he was exactly. He scans the room from his left, already disgusted by the various images of dismembered bodys placed proudly on each wall, he notices a sticky note clinging to his bedside table. Signed by a man named James and printed in handwriting so sloppy it took a second look at it to recognize the language which it was written. It wrote “It will all be fine. Just relax”. Printed at the top of this note was a blood red cross which John could only characterize as vaguely demonic.

Continuing to his right a large window enters his view. John gazes down the vacant hallway beyond. He was alone.

A sharp pain disrupts his thoughts of loneliness. Its location self described as the forward part of his head just above his eyes. As his hand reaches to examine the wound it is quickly jolted back to its position at his side. It was only at this moment which John realized that he was firmly strapped to the bed which he lies. The very next thought was again interrupted by the forehead pain which was obvious to John at this point would not release anytime soon.

John now doubts that his name really is John at all. Simon? Was it Paul? Eventually he convincingly settles on the name Tom for now. ‘My name is the least of my problems. I need to figure out where in the-‘

That thought, which alike all the thoughts before, was interrupted, this time, by a deafening screech. Now the assumption he was alone is all but as real as the name he first gave himself. Now the various assortment of glistening knives and tools resting on the tray beside his bed are ever more frightening. The fight or flight response consumes him now. Pulling ever so harder on those wretched straps holding him down.

“HELP! HELP! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME! GET ME OUT OF THIS PLACE!” He yells. Footsteps which seem to be coming from 3 set’s of feet are galloping at an increasing volume. Whomever has Tom trapped in this place is making there way to the room. Each passing second the terror builds in side him. Regretting his previous action more than he has ever regretted anything he can remember. He turns his head away as the door knob makes its initial motion.

The door swings open. Three nurse’s all dressed in white hospital garment sprint to his bed side.

The tall one says. “James. You’re in the hospital. You had an accident. Everything is going to be alright”