“Hey!” I shouted after him. “Where are you going? You can’t just leave me here!” It occurred to me after speaking that he could probably do whatever he wanted and I couldn’t appeal to his sense of morality to get him to do what I wanted. Because he was the Devil, and appealing to the Devil’s sense of morality might be as difficult as trying to taste something with your ear.
I remained seated, bound to the chair by invisible restraints. I squirmed, trying to loosen a hand, but the chair tipped crazily, and I decided I was probably better off tied to a chair that was standing than to a chair that was on its side. Not that it was likely to make much difference if I was supposed to rot here for an eternity.
I focused my energies on trying to wriggle a foot free. There didn’t seem to be much slack in whatever was holding my ankles together. No matter how I tried to shift my feet, angle my legs or twist my ankles, nothing I did gave any hope of loosening the firm pressure my restraints held on me.
I began to feel uneasy.
First it was just a bout of dizziness, like I’d stood up too fast and needed a second to adjust. But then, instead of dissipating, the feeling grew steadily worse. Soon it was accompanied by a headache, whose intensity grew in a similar fashion. Then came the nausea. Cottonmouth. Constipation. Sharp pains in my inner ear. Then I noticed droplets of red swimming in front of my vision and in the midst of my agony I realized my eyes were bleeding.