“Wake up call! How we doing, pal?”

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The distorted voice crackles through a walkie talkie that seems to be duct taped to my hand. Where am I? My head aches and I try to piece together whatever it was that happened before I fell into darkness. I try to sit up but quickly realize that’s impossible- not only because of the fog that seems to be inhabiting my brain, but also because of the dimensions of whatever I’m lying in. There’s hardly enough room to roll over, let alone lift my head. The panic starts deep inside my chest.

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”Hello? Can you hear me?”

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I raise the device to my face, doing my best to pry my tongue from the roof of my mouth.

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“Where am I? What’s… happening?”

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My voice sounds far away, like it's coming to me through a dream.

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”You’re, um, buried… Six feet under, you know?”

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I press against the wood, suddenly overwhelmed by claustrophobia.

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”Alright, listen. You only have so much oxygen left in there. So don’t waste your energy trying to escape. There’s only one way out, and all you have to do is answer a few questions. Sound good?”

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“Let me out you fucking psycho!“

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”Remember what I said about that oxygen? Save your breath. Literally!”

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The voice cackles like a madman before tapering off into a wheeze.

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”Alright! Question number one: What is your greatest fear?”

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I can’t think of anything worse than what’s currently transpiring.

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“Being tortured by some sick freak!” I respond, punching at the wood again.

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"Interesting. Very interesting answer. But are you certain that's your worst fear? There's nothing that weighs on your mind every waking moment? Something that you've never told a soul?"

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I can feel my lungs struggling to keep air in them. They're starting to burn, I know my time is running out.

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"Okay! Okay! I…"

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"…Yes?"

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"I… I'm afraid that someone will find out about what happened to… Her…"

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"Good answer! Okay, question number two: How long did you keep her alive before you killed her?"

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I swallow bile, knowing the only other option is to let it erupt over my face.

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"I… I can't remember…" I admit, trying to push the images of her broken body from my mind.

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"Ah, now that's a shame. Fortunately, I have the answer right here! Looks like it was a whole week. A whole week of torment before she finally, mercifully passed away."

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"Please, just let me out… I'll do anything. I'll-I'll confess!" I beg.

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"You already have, my friend. Many, many times. What we're doing here, this is for fun, you understand? Just a way to give her family some closure. Question three, a two parter: Do you know how many times we have already dug you up and revived you? Do you have any idea how long we can keep you alive? "

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"No, no! Let me out, please! Please!"

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"Oooohhh, I'm sorry! We would have accepted anything over a week! Better luck next time!"