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I watch the landscape move past like flashes of film and the world gradually becomes darker. When we exited the coffee shop, the sun had just moved on from its highest point. It was beginning to lull towards dusk. The sunset itself was without vibrancy, but as the haze moved in, a forced darkness hooded the immediate world overhead. As we drive down an isolated road, the same haze conceals the stars, and the night sky without the moon portends a perverse design.
My body still aches perhaps from lapsing atrophy. The gun shot wound throbs. I know I physically experienced starvation and abuse. My memories of my torment, captivity, my job, my girlfriend, and even time in university are fabrications. But I have the emotional and psychological memories of it all. Every emotion and thought exists within me as living cells and I recall every bit of agony or sense of love that I never had, the culmination of two opposing worlds that never existed. What is happening now is reality and I’m depending upon all my senses to not lose my awareness, to no longer be fooled.
I don’t know what to say to this man as we drive. He is on the short side and kind of stalky. His form is imposing, however, and I am unsure about him. He carries a jovial air that I sense is a facade. His body is encased in a white suit like a black outline of a suit on an egg and when he walks it is awkward as if he could tumble over at any moment. I haven’t spoken since I told him I knew where Fay was.
I expected to arrive at a huge estate in the midst of forest, but I was wrong. We do arrive in the midst of forest, but the structure is a large log cabin. Upon entering, I’m quite certain I have never been here before. I was hoping the place would be familiar. I thought perhaps even our destination would have been the venue at which I experienced the torture. This is likely why I anticipated a grand mansion, again an image from some ridiculous cinematic thriller, and yet again, this is gathered under the assumption that I have actually seen films.
After the long drive I need to use the toilet and I begin to look around for one once we enter the cabin. The man points. Once I’m in the toilet, the first thing I do after relieving myself is look in the mirror. I don’t recognize myself. It’s as if my mind never had a form to encase it. I don’t know if I ever knew what I look like, or if I’ve looked different in the past. The next thing I do is take note that I am not locked in or chained or imprisoned. I could take this guy on and escape. However that would be foolish since, even though I know where Fay is, I have no idea how to get there, and the details are still too vague for me to know how to acquire her.
When I exit the bathroom, he leads me to sit by a fire and he hands me a brandy. He says, “You’ve always been so quiet.” I say nothing, I just stare at him waiting for something for me to respond to or react to or learn from. I am beginning to experience a fury within me as if my blood is bubbling beneath my skin and through my veins.
He says, “I know you’re losing patience. But you need to understand that my job is to kill you, and I haven’t yet decided if I want to.”