The Miserable Life of Craig Summers

Craig's eyes fluttered open, his head throbbing with an intensity he’d never known. His cheek lay flat against a cool hard surface. It smelled like the scent of his mom’s unfinished basement. Something told him, though, that wasn't where he was. The pounding in his head intensified as a sharp pain jolted through his neck all the way up and landed behind his eyes. He groaned out as he lifted himself to his knees. It was dark, so dark that he couldn't make out what surrounded him. The only thing he knew was that the the sticky, hot, liquid rolling down his neck was blood. He wasn’t exactly sure what — or who — hit him, but he could tell by the pain he felt that he’d been hit hard.

He winced out in pain as he staggered to his feet. “Son of a bitch…” he gasped, grabbing at his throbbing side. His legs wobbled as he forced himself to stand.

Everything hurt.What in the hell happened?

It felt like the time he'd been thrown from his motorcycle and been life-flighted to the nearest hospital. It felt like his body had been smashed by pavement over and over and over again. Like he had been crushed by it; obliterated into almost nothing but a fleshy sack of broken bones.

His head whirled and dizziness began to ensue. "Fuck....." he moaned. He felt like he was going to be sick.

His eyes narrowed, hoping his eyes would adjust enough to see where he was going - or what was around him. A thin strip of light could be seen on the floor about 20-feet away. A door. A large one. But who or what was on the other side?

He took a step, still holding his ribcage, his back curved like a question mark. "Hello?!" he called, as if whatever was out there would help him. He knew he was stupid, but what difference did it make? He wasn't sure staying put was any better of an option. His aching knees shook again.

"Dammit!"

His knees buckled and his body crumpled to the floor. Pain shot through his core and down his legs and back again, and a second later, the loud sound of screeching metal pierced across the room. His hands rocketed from his ribs to his ears instinctively, shielding himself from the harsh sound. He didn’t even have time to question where the noise came from. He saw it. The wall furthest from him that he had called out to --was opening up. It was a loading bay and the light had revealed the room that surrounded him - but no one was there. He gasped again, his eyes flickering over the room's entirety.

It was a warehouse. Nothing identifiable. It looked like every other shitty warehouse along the river that he used to break into with his friends. It was a large, empty room, with nothing but a couple of shipping crates tucked in the corners of the furthest wall. One was red. One was blue. Neither were marked with anything except numbers that meant absolutely nothing to him.

And then he saw them. Through the white-light that crashed against his eyes harshly, a silhouette of a man appeared.

He narrowed his eyes at the figure moving slowly closer.

“Who are you?!” he screamed, his voice bouncing off each of the walls.

No one answered, though. The figure just kept creeping closer and closer.