A Game of Heart

The Game.

One player.

No survivors.

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1. Awakening

BANG.

His eyelids fought against the weight of drowsiness to open, to observe what was going on.  Voices.  He could hear voices and footsteps besieging him as though they made up the shroud of darkness and sleep which enveloped his figure.

BANG.

He managed to open his eyes a little, only to squeeze them shut immediately as they were confronted by harsh, pallid light.  Panic set in.  Something was wrong.

BANG.

Suddenly, the bed sheets were too heavy, and he fought against them with his eyes held closed.  They were the most immediate threat, and so, he reasoned, should be dealt with first.  He pounded at the fabric with hands made powerful by the adrenaline which accompanied his fear.

BANG.

Flaccid, weakening.  He was tiring too fast.  His nose was confronted by a strange yet somehow familiar odor.  Gradually, his consciousness was wearing away.  Think.  Think.  The smell... He knew it.  It was there, in his head... Somewhere.  He was only a few seconds from stupor.  Fires, science class, boilers, cooking food... 

BANG.

Gas.

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