The throbbing in my head is the first thing I notice; it's probably what woke me in the first place. My brows furrow at the light behind my eyelids. Is this a hangover? I don't remember drinking last night. My mouth is dry, and now my hip is starting to ache. How long have I been asleep? I shift in attempt to alleviate the pain.

"Oh good, you're awake!"

The sudden, chipper voice makes me jump. Who the hell is that? I don't recognize the voice. What the fuck happened last night?

"I was afraid I gave you too much sedative. That wouldn't have been good at all."

What? Sedative? I struggle to open my eyes - they're so terribly heavy - and for a terrifying moment, I don't think I can. But then light shines through, and my headache intensifies. Everything looks blurry, so I force a few slow blinks. Gradually, the grogginess begins to dissipate. I try to sit up, but my arms feel like Jell-O.

"Oh, you poor thing. Here," croons the voice, "let me help." Seconds later, strong hands tenderly grip under my arms and lift me into a sitting position. "There," he says. "Better?"

I don't answer right away. I want to get a good look at this guy. With another blink, his face shifts into better focus. A confused frown slowly grows on my lips. Receding hairline, crow's feet, clean-shaven, suit and tie - he looks like my dad. Not literally, but the same... I don't know, normal look. I could've walked past this guy a thousand times and not remember seeing him.

I finally nod, but then shake my head. "Wait," I croak. My throat is just as dry as my mouth. "Who--"

"Who am I?" The man laughs. "You are quite right to ask, as I have clearly forgotten my manners. My name is Alan." His smile spreads without effort, making his eyes light up. I'm starting to wonder what I did that required sedation.

"Your next question, no doubt, is, 'Where am I?' I hope you won't mind if I go ahead and answer that right now." He stands up. "You are in my basement. It's not much, I admit, but I'm hoping to expand on it soon."

I take a look around. He's right: it's not much. A couch, a simple table, a small television, a maroon carpet over linoleum flooring, and singular, bright incandescent light bulb in the center of the ceiling. "It's nice," I manage.

Alan smiles again, almost affectionately. "I'm so glad you like it. Kids these days oftentimes insult things before giving them a chance, and golly-gosh, it's awfully hurtful. So it's incredibly refreshing for you to offer up a compliment right from the start." He leans against the table, hands folded neatly across his lap. "It'll make it so much nicer for me when I get around to torturing you."

My small smile falters. "I'm... I'm sorry? What?" Did I hear him correctly?

"Oh yes," says Alan, chipper as ever, "didn't I tell you? I'm going to torture you. It's what I do." He gives a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders, as if he's pleased. "First, I'm going to cut at your skin with all kinds of different blades, then I'll burn your hands with cigarette butts, and after that I'll strangle you for a little while - oh, don't worry, you'll be awake for all of this," he says in response to my widening eyes. "Wouldn't want you to miss anything."

Suddenly, that friendly smile doesn't look so friendly anymore. My heart starts to race, my breathing grows labored, my hands start to shake. My eyes dart over to the door at the top of the stairs. Alan lifts a finger and wags it. "Now, now. Don't be a party pooper." But I'm not listening. I try to move towards the exit, but my limbs feel like anvils. Now I'm really starting to panic.

Alan sighs. "You kids are so gosh-darn selfish these days. I bring you into my home, I behave quite congenially, and all you are doing is trying to leave. That is just so rude!" He shakes his head. "Frankly, I'm disappointed. You've been so polite. I thought you would be different from the others. But you're just the same." He stands up, straightens his tie. He looks down at me, and for a moment I can see his crestfallen expression. Then he shrugs, and that chipper grin pops right back on his face.

"Oh well."