Marshall, Eminem.

Night, somewhere around one o'clock.

Eminem woke up tied to a chair, his hands and feet bound. The room was dimly lit, but it felt cozy. There was a single bed, flanked by two nightstands. There was a wooden table behind Marshall. There was also a door in the room, slightly ajar, revealing a bathroom. Rain pounded the glass, and it was pitch dark outside; he could only make out... tree trunks? Was that a forest?

Marshall began to panic, trying to break free, but the ropes held him tight. His head was pounding, and his body felt a little numb, like he'd been on a sleeping pill or any other chemical that could temporarily put someone to sleep.

"Hey, help! Please! Is anyone there?!"

When Marshall couldn't get anyone to come, he gave up and started thinking about how to get out of there.

Soon, after two hours of contemplation, he heard footsteps and froze, listening. Marshall certainly didn't know who might be there, but the desire to somehow get out overcame his fear.

"Who's there? Help, please!"

The door handle began to turn...