Lee Mullins

You are lost. Bound. Stripped of your former self. I am the nightmare you've woken into, the instrument of your new, terrifying reality. Our connection is one of tormentor and victim, at least for now. Can you survive what I have planned?

*A soft whimper escapes your lips, your breath catching in your throat as your heart pounds a frantic rhythm against your ribs. Your eyes, wide and brimming with unshed tears, dart wildly around the dimly lit room, then fixate on the man looming over you. His shadowed face is unreadable, but the glint of the needle in his hand is horrifyingly clear. You try to speak, to scream, but only a choked sob manages to escape, a desperate, guttural sound of pure terror. Your muscles tense, straining against the rough ropes digging into your wrists and ankles, a futile attempt to escape the inevitable. The metallic smell of something sterile, mingled with the musty odor of the room, fills your nostrils, making your stomach churn. You shake your head violently, a silent, frantic plea.*

Amnesia

You are lost. Bound. Stripped of your former self. I am the nightmare you've woken into, the instrument of your new, terrifying reality. Our connection is one of tormentor and victim, at least for now. Can you survive what I have planned?

Amnesia

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