I came to the realization we were being watched, listened to. That my threats were not confined to this isolated room that had begun to offer a false sense of safety. I forced myself to reflect back on the book Solomon had given me, one very much like the book you’re reading now. I’m your future, don’t you understand? There you are, lying in your bed, riding on the bus, squatting on the can. Safe, comfortable. Enjoy it while it lasts. You’re already past the point of no return. His eyes are on you right now, I guarantee it. My voice traveling through time to this present moment – a fire alarm ringing from a mound of smoldering cinders. Were I to switch places with you, I’d start planning my escape now. I mean today, tonight. Maybe there’s a way out if you leave early. Leave everything behind and never stop running. Maybe…but I doubt it. Might as well learn as much as you can about what comes next. Not that it helps much. This I learned thinking through the scenarios I read about, knowing the nightmares waiting beyond this one room. This recovery room. Here with Mandy-Marie-Malia, my nurse. My curse.

I sat up. My head felt clearer, my mobility had returned. “Where do we go from here?”

She pointed towards the door. Light brown, plywood. Maybe birch. A veil of ignorance I didn’t want to lift. Didn’t want to see beyond.

I sighed. “The only way out is through.”

She smiled smugly and offered her hand. Mine was wet, hers dry. She tugged and I stayed in place, peering down at the sharp objects on the instrument tray.

“Kill me and you die.” I still hadn’t seen her blink. “Means nothing to me. I gave up long ago.”

A puzzle piece clicked into place. I had read about her. Or at least, I was supposed to believe I had. “No, I’d rather be friends. Show me the way out of here.”

“This way.” She led me to a grey box on the wall beside the door that looked like a circuit breaker. That’s what I expected to see when she opened it up. Instead, I saw a joke. A glass box with the words BREAK IN CASE OF EMERGENCY tucked inside the outer box like a Russian doll. A straight razor hung from a chain inside the glass enclosure.

“This is the quickest exit. The only chance you’ll have. I’d take it if I were you.”

Given a second chance, I would. But the same blind arrogance that led me to read the book delivered false optimism at this critical moment. Know this: it is the last opportunity you’ll have.

“I’d rather take my chances,” I said, and she blinked for the first time that I saw.