I came to with a start, gasping for air and immediately falling into a fit of coughing. I tried to roll to my side only to realize that I couldn't; something was holding me to the hard surface I was laying on.
What... what happened? Where am I?
After a time, I was able to get the coughing under control, sucking in deep breaths - though doing so almost caused me to lapse into yet another fit.
What is that smell?
I gagged, my eyes roaming the dark, trying to see something, anything to make sense of my situation. I was lying on my back on a cold, hard surface with some kind of straps on my ankles and wrists keeping me from moving. Aside from the darkness, there was a slow dripping and the smell of iron in the air.
As my thoughts became clearer, I felt a terrible tightness in my chest—a dreading sense that something was wrong.
"Hello?" I croaked out. "Anybody there?"
Suddenly there was light, blinding me as the darkness was banished in an instant.
"Gah!"
I instinctively tried to cover my eyes, only to remember I was still shackled. When the pain lessened, I opened my eyes, staring up into a single fluorescent light set into the ceiling.
Ok... think. What was the last thing I remember?
As soon as I had the thought, it came rushing back. Terror, helplessness, and intense pain rocked my mind as I remembered a figure leaning over me. I lifted my head and gasped as I looked down at myself. I was laying on a metal table covered in blood. It was pooling next to me and dripping onto the floor.
Is that my blood?
I looked myself over, but aside from the tightness in my chest, I couldn't find any injury that could have caused that amount of blood.
"Hello!? Is anyone there?" I yelled a little louder this time.
Still no response. I looked to the right and saw a table full of various cutting utensils. Spying a large hunting knife, I shook as another memory flashed before my eyes. A young, dark-haired man plunging the knife into my chest—over and over. I yelled and bucked at the memory, but to no avail.
Surely that can't be real. There is no way. I would have been dead.
"John, is that you?" came a call from the far side of the room.
I turned my head to see a silver-haired man walk into the room through a door, shutting and locking it behind him.
"Didn't think you'd be awake yet, not after what I took," he said, walking to a chair and sitting down. "You don't mind if I drink, do you? It's been quite the day."
The man lifted a beer to his lips and took a long swig. "Ahhh, that hits the spot."
"Who are you? Why am I here?" I questioned.
The man chuckled. "You know, I've had a lot of fun answering those questions. But you know what? I think we'll try honesty and see how that goes this time."
"I'm Elijah. And you are here because of me," he said, leaning back into the chair. "I'm sure you have a ton of questions."
"Why did you bring me here? Why am I locked up?"
"Well, I brought you here because we're friends! And you're locked up because we can't just have you running off now."
"Friends?! What kind of friend would do this? I don't even know who you are!"
"Come on, John, you are hurting my feelings. You don't remember how we met? It was at TechCon. We went out for a drink after the second night."
"TechCon?"
I tried to think. I remembered grabbing drinks with some people I met at the vendor booths, but none were this older man - they were all my age. One of them was named Elijah though, but he was a younger man with black hair and...
The image of the man stabbing me came back into the forefront of my mind, making me flinch again. It was the same man as the one from the bar.
"What - that... that can't be right," I said, confused.
"Well, we've changed a lot since then. Well, at least I have," said the man, getting up. "That was 30 years ago."
"30 years? That's impossible," I whispered.
"Yes it is!" said the man cheerily. "And yet here we are."
The man walked over to the cutting instruments and began looking at them, a fond look in his eyes. "Honestly, you changed my life. I don't know where I would be now if it weren't for you. Probably in prison or something."
I opened my mouth to speak, but as I followed the man's gaze, I spotted the instruments again and more memories began resurfacing one after the other.
My arm being amputated with a bone saw, my stomach being cut open with a scalpel, my eye being pulled out with forceps - more and more, like a never-ending tide. I turned and heaved, but no vomit joined the blood on the table. In each memory—it was the same man, only with each one he was slightly older. I looked up at the man, who was now holding some kind of powered saw.
"What did you do to me? What did you take?" I asked desperately, the tightness in my chest increasing.
"Apparently nothing important - at least to you, it would seem," he said.
"How... how is this possible?" I asked.
"I don't know," the man replied wistfully. "But it must have been the luckiest day of my life meeting you. Now let's take a look and see what's in there now."
No... not again.
"Please... kill me," I whispered.
The man leaned down and whispered back, "Believe me; I'm trying."