Page 19 of Her Last Promise

The ceiling above him swam into focus, featureless white that had aged to a sickly yellow-brown in the corners.A musty smell hit his nostrils, the kind of slight decay that seeps into walls over decades.And behind it, something that was almost chemical in nature.As his vision sharpened, panic started to rise in his throat.

Move.You need to move.

He tried to lift his arms again, but it was impossible.He managed to tilt his head upward just enough to see the thick leather straps that were holding his arms down firmly at his sides.The material creaked as he strained against it, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet room.More straps crossed his chest, his legs, his ankles—each attempt at movement revealing another point of restraint.His button-down shirt and tie were gone, leaving him in just his undershirt and slacks.The fabric felt damp with sweat against his skin.

Harrison continued to crane his neck, fighting against the wave of dizziness the movement triggered.The straps were anchored to what appeared to be a hospital gurney, its metal frame spotted with rust.His stomach lurched as memories started to surface—leaving his office late, the break room, a presence behind him, then nothing.

Movement caught his eye in the dimly lit room.A man stood at the foot of the gurney, watching him.Something about his face tugged at Harrison's memory, like a word caught on the tip of his tongue.The man's features were unremarkable, the kind you'd pass on the street without a second glance, but there was something...

Where do I know you from?

He was quite certain this was the man who had attacked him at work.Those plain brown shoes stood out in his mind, kicking and attacking.His head seemed to cry out with the memory of striking the floor and pouring forth blood.

The room around them was small, claustrophobic.Wood paneling covered every wall, dark with age and warped in places where moisture had seeped through.An ancient dresser squatted against one wall, its surface dusty except for a small lamp that cast sickly yellow light across the space.On top of the dresser sat an old television, its screen a dead black eye watching the scene unfold.No pictures hung on the walls, no personal touches—just empty space and shadows.

Harrison's legal training kicked in, his mind automatically cataloging details even as fear clawed at his chest.Note everything.Remember everything.There might be a chance—

His thoughts stuttered to a halt as he noticed the second gurney.It sat to his left like some sad, forgotten stage prop.

A woman lay there, motionless.Her skin had a grayish cast in the dim light, her chest barely moving.For a horrible moment, Harrison thought she was dead, but then he caught the slight rise and fall of her breathing.An IV line snaked from her arm to a bag hanging above her.The stand on which it hung didn’t seem to be the best quality.He wasn’t even sure it was an actual IV stand at all.

The man moved, and Harrison's attention snapped back to him.He was holding something—a needle connected to another IV bag.Harrison's pulse spiked as he remembered being injected back at work, just outside of the break room.

"What are you putting into me?"The words came out weaker than he intended, fear stripping away the authority he'd cultivated over decades in the courtroom."Who are you?What the hell are you doing?"

The man didn't respond.His movements were hurried and urgent as he inserted the needle into Harrison's arm.He felt an immense pressure and then a small sting, followed by the cold sensation of liquid entering his vein.Harrison pulled against the restraints again, the leather pressing harder into his wrists.

"You can't—" Harrison started, but his tongue felt heavy."Please..."

The man turned away, heading for the door.In the lamplight, his ordinary features shifted, and suddenly Harrison knew where he'd seen him before.Years ago, in a courtroom...

But that seemed like something from another world, a world where everything made sense and he had not been captured, hooked into a second rate IV…

Oh God, please help…

The man paused at the doorway, turning back.His unremarkable face held no emotion as he spoke, his voice soft and precise."Judge Smith died here, you know.Right where you are now."A slight smile touched his lips."I didn’t mean for it to happen.I just…he was weaker than I expected."

The man said nothing else as he turned around and exited the room.He closed the door behind him with a quiet click.

Harrison stared at the wood paneling, his thoughts growing sluggish.What court case did he know this man from?If he could recall it, maybe he could speak with the man…reason with him.

But whatever he’d been injected with through that IV was taking hold now, pulling him down into darkness.Harrison tried to fight it, but his eyelids grew heavier with each blink.The woman on the other gurney hadn't moved.Soon, he'd look just like her.

I'm going to die here.

The thought should have terrified him, but the sedative was dampening everything, wrapping his fear in gentle waves of soothing colors.The lamp's light seemed to pulse, shadows crawling across the wood paneling like living things.Harrison thought of his office, his perfectly organized desk, the halls he walked down every day.Would anyone notice he was missing?How long before they started looking?

His gaze drifted to the television again.It sat there like a relic from another time, covered in dust, its screen reflecting nothing.He doubted it had been powered on for more than a decade.He wondered if it had been in this room for that long.Was he in some strange, forgotten room that had been untouched for years?

The ceiling started to blur.Harrison could feel his heart beating, too slow now, each pulse pushing more of the drug through his system.The straps seemed to tighten with every breath, or maybe that was just his imagination.He couldn't tell anymore.

Fight it.Stay awake.You have to...

But he couldn't remember what he had to do.The room was fading, reality dissolving around the edges.Somewhere in the distance, he thought he heard footsteps, but that might have been his heartbeat, growing fainter and fainter.

The last thing Harrison saw before consciousness slipped away was the woman on the other gurney.In the dying light, she looked like a corpse, a preview of what he would become.Then the darkness took him, and James Harrison ceased to think at all.

The lamp continued to burn, casting its sickly light over the scene—two bodies, barely breathing, trapped in a room that had already claimed one life.

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