Cold rain drops started falling.
They were sharp and icy, striking his skin hard enough to drag him back to consciousness. He opened his eyes faintly as awareness returned. Slowly, painfully, he opened his eyes—but his face was sealed, wrapped tight, leaving him helpless.
His vision was blurred.
With his blurred visison, he saw -
A tattoo.
RICK.
It was his name, but the tattoo was unfamiliar, he had never marked it that way.
Rain soaked him completely. His clothes clung to his body, heavy and cold. Then something felt wrong. The drops were too steady. Too precise.
Controlled.
He lifted his gaze as much as he could.
No clouds.
No sky.
He was inside a dark room.
Fear crept in slowly—then all at once.
He smelled it.
Petrol.
Sharp and unmistakable. His heart began to race. Panic tightened his chest as the smell filled his nose, overwhelming his senses.
"You're awake," a voice said behind him calmly.
Rick froze.
"Do you remember this place?" the attacker asked calmly.
Rick's breathing turned frantic.
"Don't you smell petrol?" the man continued.
A soft click echoed in the room.
A lighter flared to life.
Rick's eyes widened in terror. His mouth was sealed, but his fear screamed through his eyes as he begged silently for his life.
The attacker laughed.
"Are you begging for your life?" he mocked, his laughter cold and cruel.
Then—without hesitation—he threw the lighter.
Rick's heart stopped.
This is it.
But nothing happened.
No fire.
No flames.
Only rain.
The man's voice cut through the silence.
"It's not petrol,"
he said calmly. "It's just water. Only you can smell it—because your mind is filled with that as your nose."
The room stayed silent and rain kept falling.
Rick realized,
It wasn't about killing him.
It was about making him remember.