Confusion

Images were flashing through his mind, thoughts that would never be expressed, memories that would never be retold. His mind was foggily trying to grasp what was going on. He couldn't see, until he remember his eyes were shut, and opened them. Immediately, the pain of the intense light made him snap his eyes shut again. Why did his eyes hurt? He very gently tried to open them again, getting just barely half-way before the pain struck again. Then he remembered. He had been struck on the head, and stuffed into a box. They had kept him there for what seemed like years. It had been very dark in that box. Dark and cramped. He tried stretching his legs, and found that any small motion hurt as well. It would take some time before he would be able to move his legs properly again. Hour upon hour, he lay there, slowly adjusting his eyes, and flexing his legs. Exhaustion hit him, and he fell asleep. 1

When he awoke again, his lips were slightly dry, but he ignored that for now, focusing on the important task of opening his eyes. It was a few hours before he finally was able to open them completely. He looked around. The room was white. Totally white. Nothing but white. The walls, the ceiling, the floor. The light source was a pair of white fluorescent tubes, exactly positioned in the center of the ceiling. It was completely bare in that square room, devoid of any furnishing. And totally silent. He was getting a little bit scared. He looked for a doorway, but saw none. There was no windows, no doors, no holes at all. Utterly blank. He forced himself to stretch his legs some more. They had stopped hurting. He cautiously rose to his feet, and the pain hit him once again. He tried to ignore it, but once he rose to full height, he immediately fell again. He tried again, the time managing to stagger to a wall before his legs gave out again. He was getting thirsty. The room was still completely bare. No water, no food, nothing. 2

He got up again, a sense of fear beginning to creep through his body. Pushing that sense aside, he began to work his legs more and more. Eventually, he reached to point of exhaustion yet again, and slept. He woke up in a few hours. Nothing had changed. He was even more thirsty. He rose, his legs now functioning properly. He began to examine his surroundings closely, banging on the walls with his fist, trying to find some sort of opening. There was none to be found. His thirst was getting intense now, and he was getting desperate. He ran to one of the walls and slammed into it with his full force. He fell to the floor. He tried again, harder and harder. Nothing. His efforts were just making his thirst build more and more. He clawed at those white wall, shouting out for help. There was no answer, and his tongue seemed to be made of dust. He hurled himself at the ceiling, trying to reach those fluorescent lights, but to no avail, they were to high. He started screaming, screaming, screaming, until he could not scream any longer. He began kicking to walls, not caring about the blood that was beginning to stream out from his feet. His voice was hoarse and rasping, and could not reach beyond the volume level of a mouse. His fingers curled around his clothes, grasping at anything they could reach. He fell to the floor, and knew he was dying. He began to cry, but no liquid came out. His sobs barely reached his own ears. 3

Suddenly, in front of him, a beautiful girl appeared, hold a huge jug of water. She smiled at him, and he dived for the water. It vanished before he could reach it. There, in the corner, there it was. He ran madly, reaching out, grasping only air. His eyes were swarming with black dots. He fell forward, his face hitting the floor, and darkness overtook him.