Today In:

Captive

"Hey you," a kindly voice's call resounded in an empty corridor. The voice was eerily familiar and there was almost no doubt as to whom it belonged to.
The white walls on either side seemed to go on forever when I turned around in search of the source of the voice. Feeding my curiosity, I walked on down the narrow pathway.

As I came to a sharp left turn I realised what this place looked like and asked myself,

"Is this... a prison?"
I stopped in my tracks. Iron-bar doors greeted my puzzling and slightly terrifying realisation.

Jail cells, more like cages, lined the one side of the endless corridor that beckoned into its farthest reaches while the other still remained a white wall.

Dark, lone figures wearing the same uniform clothing stood in each cell. Some were pacing, others sat with their backs against the wall and at least one was rhythmically banging their head on the hard concrete. 

"Hey you," the voice said again.

I followed it to the first cage while trying to make out the face of the figure inside. A chill ran down my spine as I studied him closer: Those long limbs, that dark skin, the fading scar on his right hand.... From beyond those iron bars, warm chocolate brown eyes looked back at me.

"Or should I say hey 'me'," he greeted with a small smile. It was like looking in a mirror.

"How are you in there? How is this possible?" I asked, staggering back. He sighed and said to me,

"You are in your head, James. But you already knew that. As to how this is possible, well, you also know the answer to that, don't you? This is, afterall, your head."

He- I - spoke to me with such calmness of speech that I could only shake my head in confusion.

"Who are you?" I asked him in the cage.

"You know who I am, but you can call me Henry."

He wasn't wrong. To every question I asked him, the answers I somehow already knew.
Henry was sitting on the floor, back to the wall with his arm resting on his knee. His right hand that was on his stomach slipped off and touched the concrete as he supported himself into a standing position and walked towards me.

There was a 'G' in bold black on the face of his shirt, but I was reluctant to ask what it stood for; I had a feeling I knew exactly what it meant.

"Let's exchange names," he suddenly said with his hands in his pocket, standing in front of me. "I'll call you Henry, and you call me James."

I usually refer to myself in my head by my middle name Henry, so that's ideal, I thought to myself. He gave me a peculiar expression as if he knew what I was thinking but said nothing.

"Go ahead, look around. Meet the others. Come back to me when you're done, then we can talk."

Others? I had so many questions that needed answers. I gave James a worried look but he reassured me so I walked on down to the next cage.

This is a story about a man who gets involved in a terrible car accident and falls into comatose, where he meets the voices inside his head.