A young man by the name of Liam sat on a cold metal bench one drizzly Friday in April, waiting for the bus. He rarely took the bus, usually opting to walk, but today he was trying to look his best, and showing up dishevelled and damp was not the way to do so. You see, today was his first date with someone very special.
People crowded the space around Liam all of a sudden, startling him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see the bus waiting there in front of him, the miserable-looking driver lazily watching as her passengers stepped onto the sidewalk. It seemed like everyone on the bus was getting off. Finally, the way was free for Liam to climb aboard, pay the fare, and make his way to an empty seat near the back doors where no one would bother him.
A couple more people got on and the doors closed. With a small jolt, the bus was in motion. Liam settled back and put his headphones on. Smooth electronic beats surrounded him and made the long bus ride bearable, momentarily masking his nerves.
It wasn't long before the ride was over and he was back in the soft spring rain. A short walk would bring him to the doors of Main Street Cafe and Eatery, where he had arranged to meet his date. The nerves he had been stowing away on the bus finally surfaced again, the worst yet. He needed a moment to prepare himself.
Standing on the wet cobblestone sidewalk, Liam hesitated long enough to take a few deep breaths. The bus started to move again, somehow catching just the right angle to hit a deep puddle right behind Liam, drenching him in brown water and muck. The cold was shocking, and the deep breaths were rendered useless as he was now gasping.
"For fuck's sake!" he shouted angrily after the bus, even though he knew it was long gone. His date was ruined, and it hadn't even begun.
Liam entered the cafe, intending to attempt to clean up in the men's room and call and cancel his date -- he was early enough that it was unlikely his date would be there yet.
Walking quickly to try and avoid drawing attention to the fact he was covered in mud, Liam almost made it half way to the washroom when he heard one of the last voices he was hoping to hear right now calling his name.
"Hey, Liam," the voice called out. "What happened to you?"
Reluctantly, he looked over at the source of the judgmental voice: his ex-girlfriend. She was glamorous as always, her heavy makeup flawlessly applied to her round face. Her miles-long blonde hair was woven into an intricate plait over her shoulder, and her clothes looked expensive, albeit too tightly fitted around her short, curvaceous body.
"Hey, Tess," Liam replied reluctantly, ignoring her question. He could feel her small green eyes scrutinizing his wet form as he stood there dripping. "I have to go." He edged around Tess, trying not to let any part of himself touch her, and rushed to the men's room, not slowing to respond to the questions that followed him.
"Oh my God, Liam, where are you going? You're such a dick. I can't believe I dated you. Why are you even here? You can't possibly afford a place like this, you have like no money. Liam?"
He breathed a sigh of relief when the door swung closed and he was alone in the dimly lit washroom. He pulled out his cellphone and held the button to turn it on. It made a painful noise and the screen showed a few messed up colours before fading back to black. After trying to turn it on a few more times, Liam finally gave up.
"Fucking hell," he whispered, hitting the smart phone against his palm. Now his date was going to think he stood them up. He looked in the mirror at a very dishevelled boy, soaking wet with brown splatters all over his white shirt and jeans. His face was flushed and his hair was a damp mess of black and blue. "Well, I'm already here. Either I look like a douche and leave or I stay like this and explain what happened," he said to the boy in the mirror. There was no response from the reflection.
Liam did his best to salvage himself, washing some of the brown out of his shirt and finger-combing his hair back into place. He was still wet, but it would have to do. With a deep breath, he reached for the door. His hand had just touched the handle when the door burst open, hitting him squarely in the face. He fell backward behind the door, also hitting the wall with the back of his head. Pain exploded in his face and skull. He didn't even get to see who the idiot was who hit him before he passed out, crumpled in the corner.
He barely registered the guy's voice, saying, "holy shit, man, are you ok? I'm gonna call 911, are you ok, man?" before everything went black.
Liam woke to a pounding in his head akin to a jackhammer on his skull. He was pretty sure he was still on the washroom floor, where he fell next to the door. The room was dark and empty, as if the coffee shop had closed without realizing Liam was still in the men's room.
He staggered to his feet with a groan. The pain in his head flared even worse, making him feel nauseated and he rushed over to where he was sure the garbage bin was, reaching with his hands for the smooth metal. He didn't find it. He reached further, and found a cold tile wall. His hands groped along, looking for a door or light switch, something, anything. All his hands found were more tiles.
His eyes were wide, but still he couldn't see. He wasn't sure if the room was dark or if he was blind, which caused panic to bubble up inside his chest.
"Oh God," he gasped. The wall kept going, unbroken, until he reached a corner. It kept going along that wall, too. Nothing but tiles. "Hello? Is anyone there?" he shouted. His voice echoed then was swallowed by the darkness like he was in a vast room with nothing but reflective surfaces for his voice to bounce off of.
