As I slowly regained consciousness, I felt a wave of dullness wash over my fractured mind.

I couldn't move, much less remember what happened before I passed out.

My eyes burned as I opened them.

I'd spent too much time in the darkness to quickly adapt to the incessant flow of light.

Hello? I tried to call out. But what emerged from my lips was merely a whisper.

Once I could finally see, I took note of the room I'd awoken in. The walls, floor and ceiling,

were all covered in weird, sound insulation foam. I tried to get to my feet, but my legs refused to cooperate.

They weren't atrophied, but had weakened significantly.

That fact, alongside my groggy mind, made me realize I must have been drugged.

Is anyone there? I asked a bit louder this time.

No response. I tried to think back, clawing at my own memories, hoping for even the

faintest scrap of information. I'd been heavily sedated, that much was clear, but why they'd placed me in a soundproof room, I didn't know.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally managed to pull myself onto my feet.

Still feeling wobbly, I started to look for an exit.

Alas, everything around me was perfectly sealed in that ridiculous foam.

I collapsed back to the floor, still exhausted from sleep.

That's when I truly realized how quiet it was.

The room wasn't just keeping sound in, but it kept everything out as well.

No people talking, no traffic, not even the sound of water pipes built into the walls.

It was deafening.

I held my breath and pressed my ear against the wall.

Nothing.

...