I had no idea what time it was. There were no windows. The strip lighting was bright and made my eyes hurt. It felt like night. There was a long metal bench along the wall to my right with cardboard boxes beneath. Tools and cans of oil and stuff like that were spattered around. I turned my head as far as I could. The far end was in shadow. I couldn’t see the door. I was in a chair, one of the type used in offices with thick plastic armrests and chrome legs. The chair was small for me, but strong. I pulled against the ropes around my wrists and ankles. They didn’t give, not a millimetre. My head felt light and dull. It was good that it didn’t hurt. It was bad that I was woozy. I didn’t know what they’d used. Chloroform, probably. I wanted to close my eyes and sleep. I wanted to close my eyes and not wake up, not have to deal with this shit, with this world. I couldn’t afford to feel like that. I fought it, biting my lip and tasting blood. I pulled against the ropes, knowing it was useless but trying to build up the rage, get the adrenalin going.
