Michael’s POV:
“Where are we?” I asked to the woman sitting across.
The metal buckle around my left ankle felt cold and heavy.
“You tell me,” she said sarcastically.
She was here before me, so I thought she knew the situation better. I woke up in a pitch-black room after blacking out for probably few hours. The back of my head felt so painful.
“I’m Mike. Michael Andersson,” I introduced myself, rubbing the back of my head.
She sighed, “I don’t know you and I don’t think getting to know to each other will make any better,” she spoke.
“How long have you been here?” I curiously asked.
“You will know soon enough that you wouldn’t know,” she replied.
What a negativity.
“C’mon, don’t you want a good company to deal with this horrific situation?” I was annoyed.
She weakly chuckled,
