"You're a character in his story. You're the main character."

I blink again and unable to stop myself, I snort in laughter at his absurdity.

"Dude, you okay? You must be really high. Don't play that trick on me. What is he, God?"

I can't help it. I explode in a fit of giggles. That's basically the best joke I've heard in a while. My sides hurt from laughing so hard.

"Are you done?" He asks when I tune down a bit.

I glare at him although he appears blurry through my glazed eyes.

"Yes! I am so done! I don't have time for this, you jackass! It's my birthday today and look what I have for a celebration? I'm stuck in this room with a psycho! Cut me some slack, will you? Go play a trick on someone else!"

He sighs, stands up, and gets something from a black backpack.

"I know this isn't easy to understand or to believe," he says as he settles down the chair again.

He looks down at a very old book in his hands. The cover is peeling on the sides and the binding looks like it's about to come off.

"This," he begins, gesturing at the book. "This was my great, great grandfather's. He wrote a story in this book. Your story. You want me to read it?"

I roll my eyes at him. "You're gonna read me a bedtime story now?"

He ignores my insults and sets the book down.

"Fine. You can read it yourself later."

He stands up, sets the book on his empty chair and walks towards me. I watch him apprehensively, wondering what he's planning to do.

Dammit. I should've just let him get on with that stupid book. Is he gonna me now?!

My brain starts to think wild stuffs. I close my eyes as he comes nearer.

"You're an orphan. Your parents died on your first birthday. You grew up in an orphanage and escaped from there at the age of 12. You entered high school, taking three jobs to stay alive."

I open my eyes and look deep into his black ones, wondering where he got the information. I am aware that there's barely a foot between us but his words has gotten all my attention.

"Have you been stalking me?" I ask him, determined not to be the first to break eye contact.

He smirks, revealing a perfect set of white teeth. I struggle to bring my eyes back to his.

He has beautiful eyes. I think absentmindedly.

"I also know that you have a necklace. Your parents gave them to you before they died. And, yes, they didn't commit suicide. They were murdered."

I stare at him in disbelief. "Where did you get that from?"

He smiles a cold smile. He looks like he is enjoying himself.

I want to punch him so bad!

"I also know that you have been having weird dreams lately, of people dying and being murdered. You have been having headaches at the most unexpected moments and they are starting to scare you."

My eyes narrow at him. Is this some sort of a prank? How come he knows about my dreams? I never breathed a word about it to anyone!

"You want answers," he says.

I want answers, yes, but I'm not getting them from you.

A doctor would be a whole lot nicer. You could use one too!

I decide to keep silent.

"I can give them to you. But only if you cooperate with me."

I glare at him, "What makes you think I will do that?"

To my surprise, he unties the rope tying me to the bed post. I massage my wrists and pull myself in a sitting position.

"Because, brat..." he says, throwing the book inside his backpack before zipping it.

He calls me a brat?!

"You don't have much of a choice," he says, with relish. And to my disgust.

There is a knock on the door. 

"...You are being... hunted."

A loud bang and the door is blasted off its hinges.