Jenkins
Three weeks later
"So, how have you been these past few days?"
"Fine," I answer, just as I’m supposed to.
I hate therapy. It bores me, and the worst part is that I’m only here because I wasn’t smart enough. The moment I walked into the police station, I almost laughed when the officers realized that I was supposed to be dead, and just like that, the fun was over. I spent the next two days locked in an interrogation room, bombarded with questions. My story never changed: I was kidnapped by three unknown men and taken to a place I couldn’t identify. After tending to the injured one, they locked me in a dark room. They fed me and treated me well, and then, one day, they decided to let me go.
My mistake? Saying I didn’t remember a few days of my captivity.
That landed me straight
