The old man smirked at Micheals question. "Fair point, I guess not if you care about living. Sorry that didnt sound nice, but the truth hurts some times." He listened on and nodded. "That's a good attitude. I think you got a shot. I dont know about getting out but, well... you got a lot of time to figure something out now that you are here." 

Miller rested on a rotting sleeping bed roll and a pillow made from a bunch of crumpled newspapers. Within minutes the old man was lightly sawing logs. Out side the screams and creature noises began to almost pick up a rhythm like the sound of the surf on a beach, rising then falling over and over. All the while the clock steadily ticked on. 

In the night the phone didnt vibrate or beep as it should have yet there would be a message in the morning in the in box. The number that sent it was missing but the message remained in the screen like Pandora's box. "1122 E. main street apt 31." 

The morning would be a few hours still yet the sound of Miller in the background softly humming as he reread a book for the unknown number of times by now. The clocks soothing ticks as its pendulum swayed back and forth would slowly decay and come to a sudden stop. Miller would wait for the new arrival to wake. After all there was no rush in this place unless the person was in a hurry to die.