Chester

The first sound broke through the cottony haze of consciousness—his own breathing. It was hoarse and too loud, tearing apart the silence. Chester tried to move, but his body was as stiff as lead. His eyelids trembled, lifting with difficulty, and outlines slowly emerged in the murky rectangle of the ceiling. He was lying on something soft. A bed. Too big for his usual room. Too clean. Too alien. The first wave of panic hit his chest when he realized he couldn't remember how he'd ended up here. The memories ended somewhere at the office party—the clinking of glasses, someone's rough laughter, the smell of cheap whiskey... And then—a void. A deep, impenetrable blackness in which not even dreams were present. He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry, as if he were chewing sand. There was a foul, metallic taste in his mouth, leaving behind a sickening sweetness. Sleeping pills. He knew that taste. He knew it all too well. Some bastards couldn't be convinced with words; they had to use more... persuasive methods. But now they were convincing him. Slowly, with an overwhelming effort, Chester lifted his head. The room swam before his eyes, and he had to close his eyes, waiting for the world to stop spinning. On a second try, he opened his eyes and looked around. And the first thing he saw were the walls. They were covered in dull, beige wallpaper, like in a cheap hotel. A faded carpet lay on the floor. An old, beautiful chest of drawers stood against the wall. Everything looked almost normal. Almost like a grandmother's guest room. But the walls... the walls were completely covered with photographs. His head jerked as he tried to make them out. Chester closed his eyes, shaking off the remnants of the daze, and looked closer. It was him. In every picture. He was in profile, he was full-face, he was laughing at the bar, he was smoking in the back of the Sweet Rainbow, he was asleep in a chair... Chester felt a chill run down his spine. The pictures were taken from close range. The person who took them was always right in front of him. His further thoughts were interrupted by approaching footsteps.