You wake up in a clean room you don't recognize. The bay window is boarded up, and there's no phone. The door is firmly locked. Eventually, footsteps sound from the hallway, and an expressionless man enters the room carrying a tray in one hand.

He carelessly sets the tray on the table, leans back against the wall, and crosses his arms. Beneath his indigo-tinted hair, sharp eyes silently stare at you. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it again.