George Flack lay on the ground in despair, his throat dry and painful. Even a slight sound made his mouth feel as if it had been torn apart.
All he could do was maintain the status quo, lying still without moving.
He couldn't see anything and could only hear faint sounds, which made George imagine whether they were made by some insect or perhaps a gust of wind.
Would anyone call the police? George didn't know how long he had been confined here, but it felt tremendously long, as if months or years had passed.
It had been such a long time already, so why hadn't anyone called the police?
George couldn't understand, especially since he hadn't returned home. Didn't his family worry about him at all?
Thinking this, George suddenly became frustrated when he realized he didn't have his cellphone on him. Perhaps they had tried to call him but couldn't get through.
He didn't know how long he would have to wait, as despair and fear slowly consumed him.
…