Then: darkness. And then: a gradual awakening followed by the smell of cinnamon. Christ, is that mom’s apple pie? When his eyelids finally unshielded his eyes completely, Billy Roanoke was faced with an unfamiliar ceiling. He turned his head to the right and saw an even more unfamiliar dresser covered with perfumes, face-creams, and all sorts of cosmetology goop. Billy turned his head to the left and saw a door. Where am I? What the hell is this? He was agitated. Regardless of any pain he had experienced during his life, he always was reassured if he knew exactly where he was and where he could go to get away from the situation. He was also confused. The room was alien to him. It didn’t resemble anything he’d ever encountered. Billy thought there was something off about the room, something under the surface that made the reality of the room all the more terrifying. Billy swung his legs to the left and stood up. He fell to the ground face first, chipping his front teeth on the mahogany wood floor.
