The man attacked me. I know he did. He’s the only person I can link to these chains, to this room. I don’t know why, but it’s driving me crazy. The feeling of mystification; of having no leads.

Fifteen minutes ago I woke up in a red room, bound in chains. It’s a small room with a door and a key. The funny thing is, the key doesn’t open the door. Another funny thing is, my memory is fuzzy and I can’t figure out why I’m in here. All I remember is a bearded man in a warehouse, and a brief phone conversation I had with my dad.

I manage to stand up, but my head soon thumps against the low ceiling. It looked like a bottomless pit when I was lying down, but now I realize that the ceiling is just really, really low.

My name is Jeffrey Stern, and I’m fifteen years old. My parents are divorced, and my mom lives in Canada. Good. The facts are coming back.

OK, time for another memory scan. Retrace your steps, Jeffrey, you can remember. When Dad called me I was just getting home from school. It was weird, because he never calls me at that time. Even weirder, he told me to meet him at that warehouse. And his words were choppy and awkward. Surely someone was forcing him to say what he was saying.

Alright. So I remember entering the warehouse. It smelled of road kill and paint. I called out for Dad, but got no response. Then there was a sound, I saw the man, something hit me in the head and my vision slowly dissolved into blackness as I stared into those horrible yellow eyes.

BANG!

It came from the other side of the door. The hair on my body stands up and my knees buckle. I fall to the floor and hold my breath. Fear floods my soul. Who in the world is banging?

BANG!

Crap! Should I respond? Do I just say “who is it?”

“I think the sedative is still in effect, boss,” a deep man’s voice reaches me through the wall.

Sedative? I was sedated?

“Check and make sure,” a different, more authoritative voice responds.

This is the part where I either pretend to be knocked out, or make a break for the open door. But there isn’t enough time to think, and I’m not the type of person that sits around and waits for rescue. Besides, it’s obvious no one is here to rescue me. I have to act on my impulse.

As soon as the door starts to creak, I crouch down and take two large leaps forward, driving the strength of my body into the door.

A shriek. Some swearing.

I flop onto the cold ground and footsteps shuffle toward me.

Alright, slow down. Gather, gather Jeffrey. You’re still alive and you finally escaped that scorching room. But now there’s another problem. A humungous needle is plummeting toward your face.

I swing my arms up to block it, and the point collides with my chains. Like magic, they pop off my wrists and spiral to the ground, giving me a split second to push up from my palms.

“Stop him!” a voice resounds in my ears as I hop ahead into pitch black darkness.

So someone has it out for me, and they obviously want to sedate me. What enemies do I have? Where’s my dad?

With panicky thoughts swarming around in my head, I hop forward, hoping I can escape before the men are able to take me hostage again.