My T-shirt was clinging to me and the sheets felt as if they’d been immersed in water. It was dark out, but my hostage-taker had left the light on in the bathroom and I saw that he was curled up in a sleeping bag at the other end of the warehouse. I wondered whether I should wake him, but as it turned out, I didn’t need to decide. I began to cough, and the sound woke him. He sat up abruptly. He was wearing a white T-shirt, but he quickly pulled on his long-sleeved white shirt and buttoned it. “I need a shower,” I said. “I’ll turn on the boiler,” he answered. He disappeared into the bathroom, then returned to the bed with a bottle of water. “I’m all sweaty,” I said. “I’ll change the sheets while you’re in the shower.” “How long have I been asleep?” “Nearly fourteen hours.” When the water had warmed up, I showered, wrapped myself in a clean towel, and came back to bed. It was wonderful being clean again. He sat on the edge of the mattress and said, “If you tell me what happened, I can try to figure out what might be wrong with you.”
