Page 9 of Adam & Eve

I thought about what his question could mean so hard for so long that my head started to hurt.

I’m going to die here, I thought. I was not usually the pessimist, but the entire ordeal was playing out

like some fucked up version of Misery.

Was that going to happen to me if I don’t get out of here?

No, that was not going to happen to me. Why? Because there was just no way any of what was

happening could be real. I just needed to wake up. I closed my eyes, wishing, praying and hoping God

or any other deity would answer. When I opened my eyes, I’d no longer be in this nightmare. I’d be

home, in my own bed, back to reality.

I made the mistake of opening my eyes. Oh, why did I open my eyes? What I saw staring back

at me caused any feelings of hope to quickly dissipate. All the air in my lungs escaped, the hairs on

the back of my neck stood on end. The professor’s stormy gray eyes were locked in on me. Only, it

was as if he was looking right through me as opposed to at me.

He was truly crazy. Certifiable. He was the kind of crazy for which he had papers to prove it I

was sure.

Don’t freak out, my mind screamed.

The urge to try to get loose from the ropes again overwhelmed me. Don’t do it, I chastised

myself mentally. Let the professor stay focused on whatever was going through his twisted head

instead of on me.

I realized fighting against my restraint was a waste of energy. I could use that time to figure

out how I would escape if I ever did get loose. I took another deep, calming breath as I searched the

room for anything that could tell me where the hell I was. However, all I saw were the foot of the bed

I was tied to, a large oak dresser and the chaise he sat on. The walls were white. There were no

windows and two closed doors. Panic tightened my chest. There was a lot of empty space in the huge

room.

I kept telling myself to stay calm and breathe, but that bullcrap wasn’t working. Anxiety

prickled at my skin and made me feel like thousands of ants were crawling over me. Inhaling didn’t

help. The familiar smell of patchouli oil and vanilla in the room enveloped me and disturbed me all at

the same time. It smelled just like my home. The scent usually relaxed me, but now it made me

nauseous. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

All clues led to this being planned. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. The world