I awoke in a haze, my vision cloudy and the room spinning. I tried to yawn and felt my skin pull from the duct tape I suddenly realized was covering my mouth. I tried to move and came to the sudden realization that my hands and legs were strapped down to a surgical table. My skin stung from the icy cold air that chilled the metal table I lay on. As I tried to turn for a better view of where I was, I found myself in an unfamiliar room with sharp and piercing surgical tools hung on the walls. My mind began to race with fear and I struggled to remember how I got here and where I was right before being imprisoned in this unidentifiable room. I struggled to grasp any clue that could lead me to this horrific scene, but nothing; I had no recollection of the events leading to this torture.
In the distance I heard heavy footsteps approaching and I closed my eyes and began to cringe at what was awaiting me. The locks on a door outside of my line of vision begin to free the door from its frame and I prepared myself for the horror I was sure to endure. The assailant stood over me wearing a surgical mask and blood stained hospital scrubs. He turned to the table beside me, and as he turned around to face me again, he held a syringe filled with a clear liquid. The horror in my eyes must have been blatant because he calmly said, “Don’t worry this won’t hurt a bit.” His piercing eyes would be the last things I ever saw.