Obviously, since I was sleeping, I wasn't aware of what exactly happened that night. From what the police can tell me, an intruder came through the sliding glass door on the deck and then went straight for the bedroom. Assuming that the intruder had never been inside the house before, his navigation of the house was astoundingly correct. There had to be an outside source of information. For now, however, I'll just tell what happened as I remember it.

* * *

I was sleeping a peaceful sleep, comfortable in the bed when he came in. I didn't hear the sounds of wet footprints, or the creaking of the floorboards in the hallway. I couldn't see him skillfully twist the lock on the bedroom door, or feel his breath on my ear. I could, however, feel a syringe pushing tranquilizers and muscle relaxants into my arm. When my eyes snapped open, they were completely useless and unadjusted in the dark, so of course, I had no idea who was there or what was going on. Inevitably, I went semi-comatose with all of the drugs and was carried to an old Bonneville.

* * *

I woke up wearing my pajamas and a black trench coat. In the dim light, it was pretty hard to tell where I was. It certainly wasn't any place that I'd been before. In fact, I thought that it may have just been the after effect of the drugs, but I know that now to be false. In the distance, I could hear the little drips of water leak down the walls and splash to the floor from the ceiling. All of my joints were killing me, like I'd been shoved in a trunk or something. Glancing that the floor in front of me, I saw a trail of blood coming from the right side of my head. In a panic, I tried to stop the bleeding but soon discovered that my hands and feet were bound with duct tape. Grunting in pain, I rolled over onto my other side.

I could see some light through a crack under the door; it was morning. Struggling to wriggle to the door with my bruised shoulders, a heard an amused chuckle not less than two feet behind me. Twisting myself into a sitting position, I propped myself against the wall to see who was laughing. The darkness made it incredibly hard to make out facial features. Scooting over to the source, I put my bound hands up to what I believed was the cause of the noise. I thought it was laugher, but I could have been wrong.

Carefully and hesitantly, my fingers traced the outline of what had to be a face. If it was though, why wasn't the body that accompanied the face moving? I felt some stubble, so I knew it had to be a man. I slowly moved my fingers down and felt an impressive six-pack. The clothing was unwrinkled and perfectly pressed. It almost felt like the starched hospital scrubs that patients wore. . . it was a pair of starched hospital scrubs. The dim light revealed them to be the same sea green color of those at the Redgate Hospitalization Facility. As locks kept clicking in my head, I put my hands to his face again. I could feel breaths this time. For the last piece of the puzzle, I felt the man's lips again. They were thin, and curled into a smile. Fairly certain of my fate, tears began to well up in my eyes. The stranger, dragging me to the door, thrust it open. The sunlight was such a shock to my senses that I fell backwards, but a burly hand caught me. Though the tears blurred my eyes, I could still see who it was. And he had me right where he wanted me: all to himself.