Amber lay on the floor, half awake, running her hands across the cold, hardwood floor beneath her. It was strange. She didn’t remember her bed being made of hardwood. She turned her head slightly and felt a twinge of pain in her neck. She cringed and blinked the sleep out of her eyes. She looked up and saw a wooden ceiling with a rather old looking light fixture hanging from it. It was then she realized she wasn’t sleeping on a hardwood bed but rather a hardwood floor. This was a peculiar choice for Amber. She almost always slept on beds. Sometimes couches, but mostly beds, and never floors. She slowly sat up and looked around herself. Beside her was a rather comfortable looking easy chair with green cushions. Behind her was a door. In front of her was a light brown wooden desk with a man sitting at it. She gasped slightly when she realized someone was there. She stood up and got her bearings. The room was practically empty. All there was was the door behind her, a second door behind the chair, and a third door behind the man and the desk. She had now idea how she got there, and was suddenly beginning to feel quite afraid. She was not accustom to waking up in strange rooms with men behind desks.
“Hello there, Amber!” The man said, as he waved. He was older, maybe in his sixties, and wore a dark brown suit that looked as though it was purchased at a thrift store. Not a particularly nice thrift store, either. He leaned back in an old, leather office chair and smiled politely.
“How do you know my name?” Amber asked, as she brushed her long, black hair behind her ear nervously.
“It’s in the record,” the man said. He sat forward, reached into a desk drawer, and pulled out a large, leather bound ledger. He flipped through some pages before stopping and pointing at the page. “Amber Babtiste. Scheduled to arrive on April 17th, 2016. You’re right on time!”
Amber stood up. The man leaned back in his chair and flipped the ledger closed.
“I’m right on time for what?” She asked.
“You’re appointment,” the man said. His friendly smile started to fade and he looked down at the floor. He sighed. “You’re going to have to think a bit about what happened to you before you arrived here. It might be better if you took a seat.”
Amber stared at the man. She was utterly confused but unsure how to react because she was having some difficulty remembering what exactly had happened. It slowly started coming back to her.
“I remember driving to work,” She said. “That’s… That’s the last thing I remember.”
“You began your commute to work, yes,” the man said. “You didn’t quite make it there, though.”
Amber thought for another moment. It slowly came back to her. A great crash of metal and smashing glass. A scream. Then it all went black. Amber’s hands began to shake as she sat down in the chair.
“I was hit by a truck,” Amber said. “Why aren’t I in a hospital?”
The man stood and walked around his desk. He had a rather sympathetic look on his face, with a slight but kind smile. He leaned back on his desk and crossed his arms.
“Your body was taken to the hospital,” the man said. “But say you… you didn’t make it.”
There was a long silence. Amber looked up at the man with tears welling up in her eyes.
“Where am I?” She asked.
“That is a great question,” the man said with a wider smile, “And questions are very important here. Unfortunately I can’t answer that one.”
There was another long pause.
“Uhh…” Amber said, her tears subsiding, “So, you’re not going to tell me where I am?”
“Nope,” the man said, “and that is the first in a very long line of questions you are going to learn to hate me for. There’s a lot I can’t tell you today. And there’s much more that you have to tell me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Amber asked. “Who are you and why am I here?”
“There we go!” The man exclaimed while clapping his hands together. “Some questions I can answer! My name is Peter. And you are here work through some serious stuff.”
Peter walked back to his desk and sat down. He leaned forward with a very wide smile.
“Let’s get started.”