Dr. James raised his head up groggily and looked at the room around him through glazed eyes. Outlines were blurry and colors ran, but from what he could make out, he was on a cot in a rather small, circular room. There was what appeared to be a grandfather clock against the wall opposite the cot, as well as a desk and chair to his left. The more the room he examined, the clearer his vision became.

Once he had regained his vision, a startling fact occured to him. There was no door leading in or out of this room. Not a single window either. Dr. James began to panic when a voice behind him spoke out.

“Awake? About time.”

Dr. James quickly turned around, only to find a bottle of pills sitting on the desk. He cautiously picked up the bottle to glance at the contents. Prozac. He opened the bottle and began to greedily try to pour a few of the pills in his hand, however the only thing to come out was a single pill and a note which read “Only one for now, doctor’s orders.” He scowled as he crumpled up the note and popped the pill. They were playing tricks with him again. They know how badly he needs the pills. How he craves them. Without them, he surely would have killed himself by now.

At this thought, the memories of the events preceding this room flooded back to him. He was dead. How could this be? He was right here. Dr. James soon came to a horrifying conclusion. He was in Hell.