The Book of You & I

I Don't Know How I Got Here, But I'm Here And I'm Not Happy About It

     I don't know where I am. I don't know how I got here. I don't know how I'm going to get out. But I am going to try. I will get out.
     Here, let me describe to you, reader, my predicament. I fell asleep. I fell asleep in the local library. I fell. I fell to the ground. I woke up here. It's dark. There are no stars in the sky. It's complete nothingness. I can't see but three feet in front of me. I feel around until I feel something. Something cold and damp. A wall?
     I feel around more. I feel the outline of bricks. A brick wall. A cold, damp, brick wall. There are no lights on the wall. God, I wish I could see. I don't know if I'm alone here. Both responses don't excite me. Not at all.
     I continue walking forward. Or what I think is forward. Remember, I fell here. I don't know what direction is up, down, left, right, forward, or backward.
     I walk blindly in what I hope is the direction of a way out. I stumble over something in my way. I crouch down to get a better look. God, I wish I didn't. I wish I didn't crouch down. I wish I would've just continued. I wish I didn't inspect it. I wish I didn't inspect the body. God, I wish I didn't.
     What I stumbled over, you ask? As you may have guessed, it was a body. A human body.