Where It Hurts

Inside a dimly lit room, a lone figure could be seen sleeping on the bed. The room itself was devoid of any personal touches or decorations, giving it a stark and plain appearance.

The only sound breaking the silence was the steady ticking of a clock on the wall. As the clock's hands reached 4:30, the figure's eyes flickered open, as if programmed.

Atticus sat up, stretching and letting out a long, drawn-out yawn. After a moment, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, covering his mouth as he let out a smaller yawn.

However, he suddenly stopped, a sense of unease lingered in the back of his mind.

'Why do I have a bad feeling about today?' Atticus pondered for a moment. After some contemplation, he decided to dismiss the feeling and headed to the bathroom. He approached the wall-mounted mirror, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand, and began brushing his teeth.