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A thick hand dropped a notebook and a cream-colored folder onto the desk. It seemed to have come from a filing cabinet. I raised my head from the half-sleep slump forward. I looked up at him.
He let out a sigh before sitting down. I hadn’t noticed he brought another chair in with him. Maybe I had been more asleep than I thought. “Kai?” the dark-haired, blue-eyed man sitting across from table addressed me. “The doctors say you’re more responsive lately. How are you feeling?”
I watched him fold his hands together over the file and lean his weight into it expectantly. “When can I leave?” I asked him quietly, “I want to leave.”
He shuffled the contents of the file, “You know why we can’t do that.”
My eyes glanced to the screen behind the man. I could feel them watching. “So,” the man before me drew my attention again. “My name is James. I have the file and notes from the previous people who have come in and talked to you. However,” James neatly tucked the shuffled papers into the file and pushed it to the side, “I want to hear it from you for myself.”
I eyed James inquisitively, “Why?”
His voice dropped to a tone bordering on threatening, “Because they’re gone. I need to hear it from you. Personally.” James’s eyebrows clenched together, but his posture remained as relaxed as when he came in.
We stared at each other in silence. The deafening sound of blood rushing in my ears and the walls closing in on my throat suffocated the room. “What do you want to know?” I held his gaze with a tone of defeat. I wasn’t getting out of here, but I didn’t fear him.
“Start at the beginning.”
My eyes adverted to the desk, “I remember I was wearing-“