You've never been one to listen to your subconscious however, and the shroud of mystery surrounding you dictates that you really shouldn't start listening to it now.
You take a deep breathe in to psych yourself up for the pain that's about to envelop your skull.
You turn the flashlight on and slowly open your heavy eyelids that are now dripping with pain.
This doesn't make any sense.
You're in some sort of holding room it seems. Bare in every way, as sterile as an institution. No paint. No furniture. Nothing. Save a plain wooden desk in the corner to your left. And, of course, whatever you just stepped on.
You point the flashlight downward and close your eyes once again as you muster the courage to lower your head. You fear movement. Not just because of your headache, also because you have no idea where you are.
You finally, after what seems like the most prolonged moment in history, tilt your head down to look at ...