So, when I regained consciousness, I briefly thought I was still dreaming. But I really was in a place that was completely foreign to me. The grimy ceiling didn’t match the one in my bedroom, which I knew like the back of my hand. The place stank of ammonia. I anxiously shot up, trembling.
Where the heck was this? It wasn’t the same cramped room I was in right before I got knocked out. The place screamed prison cell, with an area roughly 9'×9'. I was lying in a simple bed bolted to the ground. It was furnished with a scratchy blanket and sheets, along with a hard pillow. Facing the end of my outstretched legs was a narrow entrance fitted with iron bars. The air on the other side was bustling with the presence of people and their voices. The room only had one light bulb, small enough that I could probably wrap one hand around it. If that weren’t bad enough, the darn thing kept flickering on and off.
Perhaps the lights were turned off outside the room. It seemed that way, anyhow, because it was so dark that I could hardly make anything out. I strove to comprehend the situation I found myself in, timidly hugging the blanket that had been placed over me. Where was I? What happened? It didn’t make any sense!
My mind swirling, I quietly got off the bed to make my way to the barred door. It didn’t occur to me until then, but apparently someone had changed my clothes while I was out cold. Prior to now, I’d been wearing my high school uniform, like always. After dutifully attending class, I’d headed straight to the library with that weird girl.
Although I had no recollection of changing, I was currently wearing an unfamiliar khaki outfit that reminded me of workwear. Not only did it feel brand new, so did the underwear. The cold ground bit my bare feet to the bone.
Not only did someone change my clothes while I was unconscious, it felt like my body had been washed squeaky clean as well. All of my skin stung, like I’d been given a body scrub, and I smelled of soap. It beat waking up to find myself sullied, but it still put a bad taste in my mouth.
Upon approaching the door, I wrapped my hands around the iron bars and tried to shake them. They wouldn’t so much as budge. Directly across from me was another small cell just like mine, hosting a middle-aged man who was also wearing khaki workwear. He was sitting on his bed with his head resting against the wall, muttering who-knows-what.
Based on the man’s red hair and facial features, it was safe to assume he was a foreigner. He was extremely muscular and appeared to have some sort of strange tattoos ringing his neck. It was painfully obvious he wasn’t the sort to trifle with, and I sincerely doubted he understood Japanese, anyway. Lacking the courage to call out to him, I simply stood there dumbly.
What was this place? I decided to try unraveling that mystery. Did I get mixed up in some crime? Had I been abducted by some random criminal who was keeping me imprisoned? But to what end? And why me?
It all felt so surreal. I wanted to believe it was all just a dream. But the cold floor, the pervasive discomfort, and the throbbing where my head was struck when I got knocked out—all of it was very much real. But if this wasn’t a dream, what was it? At my wit’s end, my mind shut down; I wanted to break down into tears.
“███…?” came a voice from nowhere. Even as I jumped, the sound of footsteps grew closer. I didn’t have to wait long before someone suddenly showed their face on the other side of the iron bars.
It was the Girl in the Photos. After all this time, I still didn’t know her name. She was still wearing the same outfit I saw her in before I was knocked out, but her camera wasn’t with her this time. That struck me as horribly strange—I had this weird mental image that her and the camera came as a package deal.
Although I didn’t even know this mysterious girl well enough to call her an acquaintance, I also felt an inexplicable closeness after seeing her countless times in the photos. Perhaps she felt the same, for she began to speak to me rather casually.
“███. ███, ███?” She spoke in what truly did sound like English, but I couldn’t understand any of it.
Seeing that I was having trouble, the Girl in the Photos nodded her head several times before walking out of view. I could hear her talking in English to somebody a short distance away.
A few minutes later, the Girl in the Photos returned in much the same manner as she originally came and offered me a big grin. When she did, the barred door slowly began to open. Evidently an electrically controlled automatic door, it opened on its own. Seeing as I was holding the bars at the time, this made me literally jump back in surprise.
“███.”
The Girl in the Photos anxiously waited for the door to fully open before looking up at me and waving me over. I was afraid that I might have misinterpreted what she meant, but gingerly stepped out into the corridor anyway.
I looked around me. The darkness impaired my vision, but apparently there was an endless series of small rooms—like the one I was in—akin to solitary confinement cells. There was neither rhyme nor reason to the age or ethnicity of the people sleeping or chatting inside the cells, but they had one thing in common: They all donned the same khaki workwear.
Distracted by that, I fell behind the girl, who was already making her way down the corridor. She only stopped to look over her shoulder once and jerked her chin as if to say, “Aren’t you coming?” I silently followed her like a good little puppy.
When they noticed us, the people in the cells began to shout and reach out for us through the gaps in the bars.
“███!” the Girl in the Photos scolded them, looking like a peeved cat. Intent on hurrying me along, she marched up to me and snatched my hand. She practically dragged me away from there!
I still didn’t have a good grasp on the situation I was in, but simply holding the Girl in the Photos’ hand strangely calmed me. I doubted she meant me any harm. In fact, I could tell she was on my side.