I was sat on a large double bed; I looked down to see that not only wasI naked but that there were no covers on the bed just a white bedspreadon the mattress. Obviously I must have fallen asleep and he'thoughtfully' put me in a spare room."Fucking hell," I said to myself aloud."The inconsiderate bastard couldn't even be bothered to put a quilt overme."It was then that I noticed that I could feel something around my neck,not tight but something never the less. It felt like a leather collar ofsome thought, how the hell did that get there? As I ran my fingersaround its circumference there was a clinking sound."FUCKING HELL," I shrieked in realisation.Attached to the collar was a thick chain; quickly turning around I sawthat the other end was padlocked to the iron bedstead. My eyes followedthe length of the chain to see it pooled up on the floor beside the bed.I had some movement at least; I wasn't restricted completely to the bed.My mind raced what the fuck? It must have been him, why. He had been staring at that particular set of photos for almost two days now. Chad jokingly referred to the mosaic as an ancient comic book, and in a way he was right. The tiles were sequential, telling a story about the rise and fall of a break-away Carthaginian sect. Based on all his research, everything seemed in order, at least on the surface. But his gut was telling him something was wrong.Every time he stared at those pictures, he remembered that vision that crept into his consciousness during the party with E'dan and Rivkah. There was some connection between the military quashing of this depicted rebellion and the vision of himself (or rather himself seeing through the eyes of the high priest) building a harem of sex slaves. His memory of the vision was unbelievably clear, unlike his memory of the dreams he used to have with alarming frequency. Those often faded from memory soon after waking — which was why he kept a journal on his bedside table.But it had been weeks since his.
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