Forgetful

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He awoke.



Cold. Dark. Uncomfortable. These were some of the things he took in. Vision was minimal in the near pitch-blackness, so he decided to use some of his other senses. First thing was first; find out where he was. It was almost immediately obvious; he was strapped down. Where he was strapped down was still a mystery, but it was a start. Steel clamps fastened around his ankles and wrists, the unforgiving metal hard on his vertebra. Movement was nigh impossible, except for a slight tilting of the head and feet. Not much else could move, and the cold wasn’t helping, numbing up his nose, fingers and feet.



Inhaling deeply, he could smell a cloying scent, like medicine or alcohol. It was all over the room and his person. In fact, it began to sting his eyes, and he blinked, his eyes watering. The scent rolled over him like a thick fog, and grew so strong he choked and struggled for breath. Then, just as quickly as it came, it was gone, leaving but a trace of the somewhat sickly smell. The man breathed in cautiously; the air was as clean as it was before the smell. He decided to wait a minute and see if it returned, but nothing happened, so he assumed it was safe to go on figuring out where he was.



Not to far away, he thought he could hear a steady hum of machinery, and a slight beeping noise, high pitched and slow. It almost sounded like a bomb, but he decided it wasn’t; who straps someone down and kills them with explosives? He decided it must be some sort of computer. A slight hiss filled the air, the loudest sound yet, and then faded into silence. This worried him. He hated snakes…or did he? And if he did, why did he hate them? And, most importantly…..who was he?



Oh no.



No memories, no past, no nothing. This overtook the problem of where he was. It was replaced by three words. Who am I? It repeated itself, faster and faster, getting louder and louder in his mind. Who am I, who am I, who am I, WHO AM I, WHO AM I, WHO AM I?



He cried aloud at the sheer force of the words, bellowing through his head. Please, oh God, make it stop, I don’t know, but make it stop, it hurts so bad. As if in answer to his prayers, the voice stopped. Something rolled down the side of his face as he lay there, panting. Sweat or tears, probably both mixed. This needed to stop. He was getting out of here. Now.



Phillip.



Somehow, he know that was his name. It had struck him suddenly, the impact of this thought almost making him yell out again. But now one question was answered. He would be Phillip. It was as good a name as any. In fact it was the only name he knew. So he would stick to it. Even if he did know ay other names, he would worry about a name later. There were more important things to spend his energy on. The first and foremost concern; getting out of wherever he was. And that had to start with him getting out of this room. And that had to start with getting off of this table.



Using all of his strength, Phillip slammed his arms and legs against the restraints. Nothing. Again, he thrashed his limbs, pulling again and again at the steel arches that restricted him form moving. But time and time again, his efforts were to no avail. The bars were as strong as ever, and almost appeared to be mocking him. Weakling. It’s only a little metal. You are nothing compared to me. NOTHING. I will win and you will loose. Face it. YOU WILL LOOSE.

He wasn’t going to let a piece of metal best him, Phillip decided. He continued with the smashing and flailing, determined to show the steel who was boss. He would be the victor, and argued with the handcuff as he pounded it over and over. No. I’m not going to let you rule me. You can’t control me. I am smarter than you, and I will win. YOU will fail and I will win. Arguing with the handcuff gave him something to do, and his efforts increased.



Time became relative. It might have been only a few minutes, or many, many hours. At last, Phillip collapsed. He had been so close. But he knew he was close to unconsciousness, and needed to break. Breathing heavily, he laid back down, sweat drenching his body. The handcuffs jeered, laughing arrogantly.



You pathetic idiot. We are invincible. You are as easily breakable as a twig. You stood no chance from the beginning, and now look what you have done. You are near the end, and soon shall be finished. WE HAVE WON.



“NO!”



It was not thought; it was bellowed. Phillip felt an inhuman strength running through him, his fists clenching, his toes curling. He yelled it again.



“NO!”



Wrenching his arms upward, he ripped the handcuffs as if they were paper. His legs were soon to follow. A scream rang through the room. It may have been him, it may have been the handcuffs. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was he had beaten the demon, and that he was free. Now, he needed to breathe, gather his wits, and get out.



It was still dark in the room, and he couldn’t see anything. It was as if a velvet cloth hung in front of his eyes. But he walked forward, hands outstretched, feeling for anything. He hit a concrete wall, and started to move along it, hands at the height that a doorknob would be. It took him a little while, but Phillip finally found it; a circle of wood. It was odd, the bottom half was boiling, and the top half was a much more comfortable temperature near the top. Turning it, he opened the door, ,and stepped outside.



Phillip found himself in a brightly lit white tiled hallway. He winced as the light hit him, and blinked rapidly for a minute, before looking around. On either end the hallway stretched as far as the eye can see. In fact, Phillip was introduced to the sight of infinity. It was amazing and terrifying, beautiful and terrible. He walked along the hall , taking the path on the right. But, seeing as there were no doors, and everything was white, he got the feeling he was going nowhere. He began to run, slightly panicked. He wanted answers. And he wanted them soon.





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