You don’t know why he’s brought you here. You don’t why he’s doing this to you. You were always kind to him back in school, even if others weren’t.

You only spoke to him a handful of times. Pleasantries. A ”Hi, Drew” when passing in the hall or a ”How you doin’?” when he’d be in behind you in the lunch line.

But it’s been years. You’re in some strange warehouse, and he’s chained you to wall and his eyes…they eat you. He looks so angry.

He won’t stop staring.

You wish he would.