Something jolts me awake.
My eyes have to adjust to the darkness that has engulfed me, leaving me to only feel the goose bumps crawling along my arms, and the cold, moist air, nipping at the nape of my neck.
I could hear the undeniable sound of water dripping somewhere near me, and I counted every plop I heard.
I tried to stand up, to move my arms around, but even with all the energy I had I couldn't move.
I tried kicking around, but with every motion I made I could feel my calves throbbing, and this prickly sensation that, eventually, rubbed me raw, and rendered me helpless.
My heart starts to pound, and I try to scream, but it comes out as a muffled echo.
I try to swing my arms around behind me, but the same prickly sensation of a length of rope rubs me raw, and keeps me in place.
Plop, plop.
I scream as loud as I can, but my cries for help get me nowhere.
I try kicking, and screaming again, trying to pull my hands away from each other behind me, and strands of hair get caught in the sweat that's trickling down my forehead.  I can feel the rickety, wooden chair that I am strapped to, flail around swinging from side to side, back and forth, hopping from one leg to the other. 
My eyes become puffy, and I scream out, "Help me! Please..."
My voice cracks, and I go limp, and I let my head fall back against the chair.
Plop, plop.
I can feel the chair start to tip backwards as I try to pull myself forward, but my head hits the ground with an alarming whack!
I turn my head to the side, and with every, "Please," that I scream, I start to hyperventilate.
Plop, plop.
The hair is still sticking to my forehead, and my hands start to hurt from all the weight and pressure that fell on them.
I hear something besides the drops of water, footsteps, coming from the darkness.
I try to calm my breathing, and a shaky, "Hello?", escapes from somewhere within me.
My heart starts to race, as I realize the footsteps have stopped somewhere in front of my face.
It feels dangerously close, and once the blurred mess that had come from the tears had vanished, I see a pair of shoes, only a couple inches away from my nose.
I gulp, and I slowly turn my head forward, preparing my self for what I might see in the black.
Plop, plop.
My hands are feeling clammy, and bruised.  My legs feel numb, and are rubbed so raw from the kicking, and twisting, and turning that I can feel the warmth of the blood seep into the rope.
With my breathing heavy, I face forward, tears starting to well up again.
I can see the outline of a head, staring down at me.  A wide grin sent chills down my spine, making my blood run cold.
It was a crooked smile, and although it was hard to make out in the darkness, I could tell the smile had gone through a lot of torment.  A lot of trauma.  The same trauma that had brought this smiling figure to do what it was going to do to me now.
"I don't want to die," slips past my lips.
Plop, plop.