“You will be asked one question.”

“Where the hell am I? Who are you? How did I get here?” I fired off my own questions like bullets. My voice echoed off the walls, which were in the darkness of the huge chamber. I had spent hours in this chamber, chained to the floor, without contact of any kind until the voice came.

“Nothing else is of importance Mr. West. You will be asked one question.” The voice came again. I was trying so hard to remember how I got here.

“What fucking question!?” The cursing and screaming began, as it had to I guess. How much of this harrowing unknown keep my panic in check. Panic turns to anger and demands for resolution.

“Your behavior here is not being judged, Mr. West, but it will be once the question is asked.”

How did I get here?

“Once the question is asked, everything you say and do will be part of the answer.” Once more the voice came. I noticed it did not echo off the walls, only my voice did.

No echo? Is it in my head?