I woke up that chilly January morning with a throbbing headache and an overwhelming feeling of nausea. I slowly regained my senses, lifted my head, and called to the air in a scratchy voice full of nothingness, “I think I over slept.” There was no answer. I squeezed my eyes shut, rubbed them with my palms, and looked around me in horror and said once more to the thin, crisp air around me, “Where…What am I doing here?” I was in a jail cell. The walls were an intimidating gray color with sickly green splotches and graffiti penetrating its surface. There was a thin mattress with a pair of shredded black sheets overtop. The blood and mildew covered floor was a rusty red color. Then a man in a black officer’s suit casually approached a desk in the center of the cells. The center office had a very creepy air about it. The desk and chair were both made of ebony and had intricate carvings of wild flowers on their legs and on the chair’s arms. Both the desk and the chair conveyed an artificial ambience against the somberness of the jail cells. His eyes swept over the cells. When his eyes met mine he said in a surly voice, “Ah, a new comer have we.” He then glided over to my jail cell and I retorted stupidly, “Do you know… how I got here?” All of a sudden, I was punched in the face with a burst of frigid air, a slimy substance swam across my bare feet. I looked down as blood bubbled over my feet, enveloping the floor. The walls turned black and start to drip like wax over the blood. I looked at the man in utter horror and confusion. A slippery grin was returned in my direction, just as a mound of blood built up forming a dark cloaked figure which reached out and engulfed me as I let out one last useless plea for mercy, “Help me”.