I woke up with a jolt, unsure of where I was for a second, then remembering everything that had happened. I shivered from the horrid memory, then checked my watch; it was almost 6 pm, which meant that I had been asleep for 2 or so hours. I sat up, and winced. I was sore all over, but I guess the only really serious scratch had been that first one on my left arm, because it was bandaged.

I swung my legs off the side of the couch, and stood up. My legs were shaky, but they held my weight. I looked around the apartment. It was nothing much; just a small living room connected to the front foyer, where the entrance was, a hallway leading off to what was probably the bathroom and bedrooms, and a wall that separated the living room from probably the kitchen.

I went towards the kitchen, and as I walked around the edge of the wall, I bumped into Jake, who was walking in the opposite direction, probably having heard me get up. “Woah!” he said as I stumbled back, and put his hand on my arm to steady me. We walked over to the small table that was in the kitchen and sat down.

“So,” said Jake, looking at me. “I guess you’re feeling better?”

“Yeah,” I answered, fiddling with a strand of my brown hair that was over my shoulder. “But… I’ve got a lot of questions. What’s going on? Who are you?”

And so he told me.