8 hours

Woke up in a van, clutching the knuckles of a stranger, of a stranger's hand

He was stout with crimson hair, but as I rose to leave, I wondered how I got there, how I got there

One second, I'm conscious, eight hours, my mind is enclosed.

One second, I'm conscious, eight hours, you had control

Morning light, pierced confusion on the inside, and panic surged to my lips

I was alone in an unknown, and the dirt road led nowhere, and my clothes weren't my own

One second, I'm conscious, eight hours, my mind is enclosed.

One second, I'm conscious, eight hours, you had control

And the stranger tried to be my friend, and I willfully let hin

I lived in disbelief for a day, I kept my mouth shut.