That single solitary Prozac had done nothing to qualm Dr. James Saint’s fears. He had been in the room for 3 days if the grandfather clock was correct, although for all he knew, it could have been a few months. Dr. James passed the time by using a sharp point of wood from the desk to draw with. He first punctured a bit of his flesh to release some blood, and from there he drew and wrote all along the walls.

He was stopped mid-verse by a sudden realisation that he was running rather low on unbloodstained wall space. He began to worry. He turned towards the grandfather clock and inquired in childlike voice, “What shall I do to keep myself sane when I run out?”

“A bit late for that, eh chap?” chuckled the man at the desk. Dr. James whipped around and glared, holding the bloody stick towards the man as if to threaten him.

“You!” exclaimed Dr. James snarled, “You’re the one of Them! One of The Ones who brought me to this Hell!” The man smirked and glanced at the clock.

“Well, you’ll be glad to know that your time is almost up. I do hope you enjoyed your stay here.” And with that, the grandfather clock began chiming so loud that Dr. James was astonished that the glass inside hadn’t broken. He covered his ears and looked to clock face. 4:37. 4:37? Yes, that was the time displayed, Dr. James thought, but why was it chiming at such an odd time?

The last thing Dr. James Saint remembered before being knocked out by the man was hearing the words “Why don’t we ask your sister?”