I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve blacked out and woke up only to find myself in strange places.

Today is one of those days. Except, unlike other times, I’m seated in a metal chair, my hands chained behind it.

I look around to check what I could make of the surrounding. Nothing. Just an empty, dusty space with piles of gun parts and a few huge cardboard boxes.

The place stinks as well, gathering this tough stench of metal. I don’t need anyone to tell me it’s one of mom’s ...