No one can live forever. Everyone dies. I knew that - I do know that. That didn’t change the feeling of the blade as it stabbed through my chest. The shock and the sudden realization. I’m going to die.

I fell backwards, but I didn’t hit the floor. Instead, I fell gently into her arms. I smiled as I looked up at her face. I saw her tears as she removed the blood-stained blade with visible effort. The desire to close my eyes won, and she disappeared from my vision. I wasn't getting out of this alive, but I hoped wholeheartedly that she would.

My name was Toby. I was eighteen years old and would graduate from high school in the spring. I mostly stayed at home with my dog. There wasn’t much else to my life. I wish I could set more of a backstory, create a scene that makes me “relatable”, or at least able to empathize with. But I was kind of boring, really. This may be the only story I’ll ever have to tell. Anyways, here it is.

I was sick. Not like really sick, I guess. It’s more of an abnormality than anything else. My mom used to say it was like my own little super power. Apparently I should have been diagnosed long before I was, as one of the common signs of this disease is that babies don’t cry when they are born; they’re just completely silent. But the doctors didn’t realize that, so I was diagnosed as a kid after I cracked my head on the corner of a table and didn't notice the blood until my mother screamed. She rushed me to the hospital despite my saying I felt fine, where we found out. I couldn't feel pain. They said that my receptors were defective and didn't send messages to my brain, so I was never alerted to injury. Congenital insensitivity to pain, they said. Cuts, bruises, stings-I couldn't feel any of them. I didn’t know what physical pain meant.

It sounds like a cool thing, but most of the time it wasn’t. Other people knew not to do things because they hurt. Me? I could lean on the stove without thinking about it and not even know that I was charring my hand. It made my life abnormally dangerous. I was often in the hospital. That’s where I met my best--and only--friend, Roxanne. We had neighboring beds, and that’s where we realized that we were there for similar injuries.

Because of my inability to feel pain, I tried to stay away from kitchens and cooking. This one day, though, I decided to cook dinner for my parents. I was chopping up peppers and onions, planning to throw them in a pan on the stove and sautee them. I looked away from the cutting board at my labrador Maximus, who was wagging his tail next to me, hoping for a snack. I kept chopping despite looking away, and when I turned back to my work, I saw that I had cut through the entire bell pepper pretty well, but had then continued to slice, leaving my fingers cut down to the bone in multiple places. Blood pooled all over the vegetables and my hand. I sighed and tried to wrap up my mangled hand as best as I could before having my dad drive me to the hospital.

Roxanne had apparently decided to cook dinner for her parents that same night. While attempting to move a pot of boiling water containing tortellini, she forgot to use oven mitts. She dropped the pot because of the heat on her hands, causing it to splash. Most of the water scalded her hands and stomach. Unlike me, though, she could clearly feel the burns on her skin.

As we told each other what had happened, Roxanne was amazed at the fact that I really couldn’t feel pain. She sat up and winced because of the burns on her abdomen.

“That must be nice. This frickin hurts,” she said with a laugh.
I smiled and said, “Actually, it’s really annoying. This happens way too often.” I lifted my bloodied and bandaged hand in a wave. “I’m Toby, by the way.”

Roxanne showed me that she also had a bandaged hand. She reached it out close to mine as if to shake my hand, but stopped right before touching the bandages. She lifted her hand up and down as though we were shaking hands. “Nice to meet you, Toby. I’m Roxanne.”

I laughed at this gesture. “The pleasure’s all mine, Roxanne.”
We talked through that whole night, despite being told we needed to get rest. We discovered that we both lived in the same suburb of New York City, but attended different high schools. We both liked the color blue and pepperoni pizza. We talked about anything and everything. At the end of our stay, we exchanged numbers and promised to hang out. To my surprise, we did. We became basically inseparable. Our parents insisted that we were going to get married, but it wasn’t like that. She was beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but she was my best friend. We kissed one time, and afterwards, we both agreed that it felt weird and we should never do that again. So we remained friends. Anyway, that’s the awesome Roxanne.

It might be nice if that was all I had to tell, but here is the real story. One Saturday morning I was home alone with Maximus. My parents were on a weekend retreat, though they were hesitant to leave me alone, given my condition. I convinced them they deserved a break, which they did. I had the house to myself.

I munched on a sandwich as I did my Spanish homework in my room. Why was I doing homework on a beautiful Saturday morning? Well, there wasn't much else for me to do. I guess I just wasn’t very sociable. Maximus was my only friend besides Roxanne.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang, startling me. Maximus jumped up and started barking. I ran to the door and flung it open.

"Roxanne!" I exclaimed, surprised to see her. She had told me she had plans this weekend.

"Happy birthday, Toby!" she said, hugging me with balloons in one hand.

Oh, right. It was my eighteenth birthday; how could I forget?

"I thought you were busy," I said in response.

"I was," she said. "Getting you a cake and balloons."

I laughed. "Thank you, Roxanne."

She walked inside and patted Maximus on the head. "Hi, boy. Don't worry, I have a treat for you too," she said before pulling out a small bag of dog biscuits and giving them to Maximus, who began eating them happily.

We sat on the couch eating cake and watching reality television for a while. I looked over at her and she was laughing. She had a bit of frosting on the corner of her mouth and I wiped it off.

She really was beautiful. She had long, curly blonde hair and bright green eyes. She was tall, but not too tall. Compared to my messy hair of a similar color and dull gray eyes, she looked like a model. My simple wardrobe couldn’t match up to her quirky style of striped tights, a knee-length skirt, and a bright t-shirt. I never would have found a friend like her if not for our crappy cooking skills.

We turned on the news, where an anchor was talking intently about a series of kidnappings that police suspected were connected. They recently deduced this after another two people went missing in New York City. They traced similar missing person cases from across the entire east coast back two years. They believed there may be a single perpetrator who kidnapped all of these people, which was an impressive feat to accomplish for two years without getting caught. None of the missing people had been found, and the police had no suspects. They showed a picture of the young man and woman who had most recently disappeared.

I shook my head and zoned out of what the news was saying. “Great detective work, police,” I said sarcastically.

“Give them a break,” Roxanne said, lightly punching my shoulder. “They’ve got a lot to deal with.”

I took the remote and switched back to reality television, where a woman was pulling another’s hair because she had drunkenly insulted her miniskirt. I sat back and took some cake off of Roxanne’s plate before she could slap my hand away.

The day was supposed to stay like that. Roxanne and I on the couch, laughing on my birthday. When the doorbell rang for the second time on that clear morning, I should have ignored it. Though whether that would have made much of a difference, I don’t know.

Either way, I answered the door, still smiling about a joke Roxanne made. Before I knew it, I was on the floor with a gun pointed at my head. I tried to look around for Roxanne, but the large, ski-masked man told me not to move. What the heck was going on?

“What do you want?” I asked as confidently as I could. “You can take my money, but I don’t have that much. It’s upstairs.”

“I don’t want your money,” the man said gruffly.

My heart sank and I began to panic. We were going to be murdered for sure. What was even happening right now?!

Maximus ran out from the other room and tried to bite the man’s leg, but was shot in the hind leg before he could do anything. I held back my cry of protest. There’s no way we’re getting out of this alive.

“Okay, okay,” I said quickly, shaking in fear. “What do you want?”

The man brought his face close to mine. “You, Toby. And your little girlfriend.”

I woke up with a massive headache and a gag in my mouth. Roxanne sat across from me, wide-eyed and with her hands and feet tied. I was just glad to see her alive.

Looking around, I realized we were in the back of a van. A moving van. I could tell by the bumpiness that we were on a gravel road. Roxanne and I were on the floor, and I began hitting my head against the rusting wall and making muffled screams. Nothing happened. I’m not sure what I expected.

Then it hit me. We were really being kidnapped. For what purpose, I didn’t know, but I remembered that the man had known my name. I exchanged glances with Roxanne to see if she had reached the same, terrifying conclusion. She nodded, as if she knew what I was thinking.

Suddenly, the van stopped. The back doors flung open, but no light rushed in. It was night. How long have we been gone for? The man in the dark ski mask untied our feet and pointed a gun at us.
“Go inside,” he ordered.

We obliged, noting our surroundings. Trees. Everywhere. We were in a forest. The man was directing us to a nearby cabin overgrown with weeds.

No one will ever find us here, I thought.

Once inside, the man led us down a flight of creaky stairs into a cold basement, where two chairs awaited us. Without warning, he whipped around and knocked me out with the butt of the gun.

I woke up dizzy and my vision was spotty, but I knew that I was securely tied to one of the chairs I had seen. Looking over, I saw Roxanne strapped in the other. Her gag was removed.

“Why are we here?” Roxanne asked. “How can we help you?”

It might have sounded crazy, but I understood her angle. Make him feel like we understand, and maybe he’ll let us leave. It worked on TV, at least. I watched Criminal Minds.

The man ripped off his ski mask, revealing a harsh, gaunt face and thick brown hair. “Oh, you’ll know why soon enough,” he answered calmly. “And how can you help me? Shut up.”

I knew at that moment that we were going to be killed. He wouldn’t show us his face if he was planning on freeing us and sending us back home. Thanks Criminal Minds.

The man proceeded to open a tall cabinet in the corner. I could see something shining, and I turned pale when he pulled out a cleaver. One by one, he grabbed the deadly utensils from the closet. More types of knives than I knew existed were placed on a cart before us.

I turned to Roxanne, who looked terrified. She was trying not to shake, and couldn’t speak out of fear. I was scared for her. I couldn’t bear to imagine those blades causing her harm.

As for myself, I couldn’t be afraid. I couldn’t feel pain. I had never experienced a stinging cut. I was incapable of imagining the feeling of being sliced or stabbed. But I knew I could still be injured, even killed. The thought of dying in this place made me queasy.

“W-why do you need those?” Roxanne asked with a strong voice. “We’ll tell you anything you want.”

The man walked behind her chair and put his face close to hers. “You can’t tell me anything, beautiful.” He smelled her hair and squeezed her shoulder. “It’s a shame.”

I tried to protest, but I was still gagged. The man turned to me and smiled.

“Oh, we have a hero, I see. It’s you,” he pointed at me, “that I’m curious about.”

With that, he removed my gag, and I spoke. “What do you want from me? Just let her go if you I’m who you want, you maniac!” I knew the yelling approach probably wasn’t the best idea, but I was angry and scared.

“My name is Abraham, not ‘maniac’, but to answer your question: this is an experiment. You are the variable. She,” he said, nodding at Roxanne, “is the control.”

I shivered. For a kidnapper, this guy seemed controlled and intelligent. Telling us we were an experiment didn't help-we had no idea what he was going to do. Though the knives were a bit of a disturbing hint.

He pulled up another chair and sat backwards on it in front of us. “It’s only fair that I tell you the parameters of the experiment,” he began. “You are the subjects. As I already stated, you, Toby, will be the variable, while your little friend here will act as the control.”
Roxanne glared at him, but didn’t say anything. That’s my girl, I thought. Defiant and unafraid. Unlike me, who was terrified.

“My tools? Well, I suppose you’ve already seen those,” he continued as he gestured at the cart containing the array of knives. “The test is simple. I inflict damage on your body with one of these knives, Toby. I see how Roxanne here will react before cutting her with the same knife to see how you react. That’s the experiment.”

Before I could even think about what he said, he grabbed a small knife and stabbed it into my forearm. Roxanne gasped. I looked and saw the blood, but felt only a small pressure from the knife’s force, no pain.

“Ah, that’s right--the most important factor,” the man smiled. “Toby here can’t feel pain. My hypothesis for this experiment? He will not be able to feel empathy for another’s pain due to his condition. However, let’s find out for sure.”

Now I wasn’t going to sit still anymore. “You’re one twisted scientist, if that’s what you think you are!” I shouted as I tried to move in the chair.

Roxanne spoke up now. “Toby, whatever he does, don’t do anything stupid. Stab me with your little knives, you son of a b****. You must have done real well in college to be reduced to this,” she said.

Apparently, that struck a nerve. He rushed up to her with the knife, but stopped close to her face.

“They just couldn’t see my genius,” he whispered angrily. “They said my idea was ‘unethical’. Well you know what? The world is unethical! We’ll never discover anything without sacrifice!”

With that, he opened another door in the basement. The room was dark until he flicked on a single bare light bulb. The sight is something I could never forget.

Mangled bodies hung from the ceiling in pairs with multiple stab and slash wounds on their flesh. I couldn’t count how many there were--not that I wanted to. I recognized two of the people by their faces; they were the missing persons from the news. Seriously, what were the chances of that? I thought it had to be a dream. I must have fallen asleep on the couch at my house. Unfortunately, this is not one of those stories. Oh God, I thought. This is what awaits us. Hanging in a cold basement forever with this killer.
Roxanne said nothing, but a tear rolled down her cheek. I knew she had seen the faces from the news as well.

Abraham began talking to us as he wandered into the room, brushing his fingers against the bodies as he walked past them. “Apparently, my methods could not be approved by my superiors. A study involving intense pain was too intelligent and innovative for them to understand. All of these deaths would not have been necessary if they had given me results. However, a good scientist knows that specificity and control are key in an experiment. You see, I know what I was doing wrong all this time. I didn’t have a control for my experiment.” Turning back to us, he said, “Let’s see if we can’t get better results this time.”

Suddenly, he stabbed Roxanne’s arm where he had stabbed me. She gritted her teeth to hold in a shout of pain. I begged him to stop.

“Why?” he asked me. “How do you even know if it hurts, Toby?”
The question was ridiculous. Roxanne was clearly in pain, her face becoming pale. This guy is crazy, I thought. It doesn’t matter what I say.

All I could do was watch as he chose different knives to cut with.

I wish I could say that that first night was the worst. But that’s not the case. Each day was the same. He would cut me, stab me, and I would feel nothing. Not physically. But I knew with each wound that the same would be inflicted on Roxanne, and she could feel every slash of the knives. We were tired. We were scared. I knew my parents must have been worried, given that my dog was shot in the living room and I was nowhere to be found. But how could anyone find us here?

Each morning Abraham brought us a piece of bread to eat with water of a suspicious color; just enough to keep us alive. Definitely not the type of food to give to severely injured persons. After our measly breakfast, he turned our chairs to face each other as he inflicted the damage so we could see each other’s faces. I saw Roxanne’s pained face and she saw my tears. More importantly, Abraham could see our faces to write down whatever results he was getting from our torture. He had explained it to us on our second day in the basement.

His unethical experiment was to test emotions, specifically empathy. He wanted to discover if people truly can feel the pain of another and experience the emotions on the same level. Apparently, I was the missing piece. How to find if one can feel empathy? Use one who experiences physical pain and one who literally cannot--me. He judged our words and our faces to see how we would react to the other’s harm. Especially how I reacted to seeing my best friend die a slow, painful death.

When Abraham wasn’t experimenting, however, he left us alone. We sat in the dark, musty basement and talked quietly, for fear he might be listening.

Roxanne looked terrible. She had cuts on her face, even one on her neck that I thought was going to kill her. But he had placed it in just a way where she wouldn’t bleed out. Other stab wounds bled through her clothes on her arms and legs, but still she spoke.

“Roxanne? Are you alright?” The same question I asked each night now.

“Of course, stupid. I’m still alive, aren’t I?” The same response.
“Roxanne, this is all my fault.”

“Why?” she asked. “It’s not like you can help it,” she said, referring to my condition.

“Are you in pain?” I gently queried.

“Of course I am, Toby. It’s still so strange to me that your body just can’t feel pain. You look terrible.”

That was probably true. I couldn’t feel the pain of the injuries, but my body still reacted like anyone’s would. I was getting weaker, not that I was all that strong in the first place.

Though I knew it was ridiculous to say, I wanted to reassure both her and myself. “I’m going to get us out of here, Roxanne,” I promised.

“I know you think so, Toby. But who could find us here,” she said, not even really asking. “Why is he drawing this out? He’s just going to kill us. I’m sure that’ll be a great result for his messed up experiment.”

Hearing her say that surprised me. She was supposed to be the optimistic one. “We’re not going to die here, Roxanne. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“That’s just realistic. You saw the bodies. He won’t stop until he gets what he wants.”

I thought of the bodies that hung only a few meters away from us, but quickly blocked out the image.

“And what does he want?” I asked her.

“Something that he will never get from us, or anyone. He’s testing something that can’t be resolved for him, Toby. No matter how much you look like you care and feel my pain, or the opposite, he won’t believe it. He won’t find what he’s looking for. This experiment isn’t scientific at all.”

Roxanne always had a way of understanding how people think, and this maniac was no exception to her skills. I knew she was right, too. Though he said he had control, emotions can’t be measured the way he wanted them to be. But if what she said was true, we were going to die in this basement.

Just then, Abraham entered the room. “You’re still awake? My my, that’s no good. You need your beauty rest,” he said to Roxanne.

“Leave her alone!” I shouted. She couldn’t even lift her head anymore, the pain was too much. “Can’t you see she needs medical attention?!”

He smiled cruelly. “I see. However, the experiment is not yet complete.” He moved closer to me. “Do you feel the pain? Do you?” he asked me as he slashed my forehead.

“Please, don’t do this to her anymore,” I begged. “Just tell me what you want. I’ll do it for you. Just…..” I didn’t know how to end my thought.

“I don’t know, Toby,” he said. “I like this one.”

“Oh, the other ones weren’t worthy of your sadistic game?” I said angrily.

He frowned and walked over to Roxanne, cutting her forehead. Blood dripped into her eyes, but she was unresponsive.

“You’re not going to win,” I whispered. “I won’t let you win.”

Abraham walked over to me and brought his face close to mine. “This is not a competition, Toby. It’s about science.”

Suddenly, a blur pushed him out from in front of me. He fell to the floor. Roxanne was on her feet, somehow escaped from her bonds. She quickly cut one of my hands free before falling to the ground out of exhaustion. Abraham stood up as I grabbed the knife from Roxanne and cut my other hand and ankles free from the rope.
Our captor ran at me and pushed me over while I was still in the chair. I dropped the knife, and he snatched it up. Roxanne sat up behind him and, grabbing a knife from the cart, slashed his leg. While he was distracted I stood up and tackled him, but he was much stronger. We wrestled, or more, he held me against the wall and punched me while I tried to fight back, until Roxanne appeared out of nowhere. Blood still dripped in her eyes and she couldn’t stand steadily. She held a knife. Relief flooded over me. If I can hold him off a little longer-

Suddenly, I felt a small pressure on my chest. Abraham backed up, shocked. I looked down and saw a blade sticking out of my flesh. Blood was pooling on my shirt and I felt dizzy. I saw Roxanne’s horrified face before falling into her arms. I smiled at her as she removed the knife to let her know it was okay. Then everything went black.

Bright lights. Muffled sirens. Roxanne's voice--was she dead, too?

I woke, and without opening my eyes, I knew I was in a hospital by the familiar sounds. I blinked my eyes open to see myself in a bed, sporting bandages across my chest. An IV stuck out of my arm, and clear liquid dripped into it.

“Toby.” I heard Roxanne’s voice next to me. I looked over and saw her sitting in a chair pulled up close to the bed. She had stitches on her forehead and bandages on her cheek and arms. She grabbed my hand, but I could tell her injuries still hurt her.

“Toby, are you alright?”

I squeezed her hand. “Of course, stupid. I’m alive, aren’t I? What about you?”

She nodded. “You’ve been out for a while now.” She smiled a little. "Crappy birthday, huh?" she asked as she sat on the edge of my bed.

I had forgotten about our brief celebration before being kidnapped. "Roxanne, I had a great eighteenth birthday. Before the whole taken captive thing," I told her sincerely.

She was silent for a moment. “I’m so sorry,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “I couldn’t see- I- I wanted to get out of there- I didn’t know-”

“Roxanne,” I interrupted. “It’s okay.” I smiled. “I don’t know how you got us out of there, and I don’t care what happened to him. I’m just glad you’re okay.” I didn’t need her to explain how we escaped.

“The knife barely missed your heart. Just a few centimeters more, and I would’ve…..” Roxanne’s voice shook.

“But you didn’t, Roxanne,” I said firmly.

Roxanne kissed me softly. “Your parents are outside, along with Maximus,” she said as she rubbed her tears away. “I’ll send them in. And then, Toby,” she grinned, “we’re going to go home.”

I was shocked at her action. She started to pull her hand away, but I held on tightly, sitting up slightly. She looked back at me. “Roxanne,” I said seriously, “You have too much adrenaline right now.”

“I know,” she responded. “A kiss seemed the only thing fitting of my best friend waking up after a near-fatal injury inflicted by me. No marriage is implied,” she said with a soft smile.

I leaned back into my pillow and closed my eyes. “Roxanne, thank you for not knowing how to make tortellini.”