Post by vendetta on Jul 13, 2009 6:27:41 GMT -5
Every ounce of his body ached, he couldn't see anything.
The world was shrouded in darkness.. Thats when he moved his hands.
That action didn't change much. "It must be nighttime.." he thought slowly.
He was sitting awkwardly on a bed, his hands now placed lightly on his knees.
Surveying the room he tried to take in his surroundings, Which was pretty much impossible seeing as it was almost pitch black.
He Wasn't going to make any progress sitting so he got up, Bad move, his head pounded in response as if it was telling him to give up and sit back down.
"Damn.." He grumbled, tumbling off to the side crashing into some type of storage unit.
He leaned against it for a moment, trying to sort his thoughts and gain some strength to search for a light switch.
He walked cautiously forward, seeing the outline of a door.
'Thank god..' Grabbing hold of the handle he turned it.
No good, it was locked. Leaning his head against the door he sighed in frustration.
Could it get any worse? He ran his hand up the wall next to the door, Smiling as they stumbled over the switch.
'Finally..' Flicking it on he winced in pain at the sudden burst of light.
His eyesight was slightly blurry, but besides that he could see.
He waited patiently for the world to climb into focus as soon as it did, He turned around so that he could map out the course he had taken to get to the door.
The room was like a swollen shoe box, small and square.
Still leaning against the door he examined the lack of furnishings.
There was a ratty single bed on the right side, pushed up against the wall.
That must have been where he was sitting, because opposite that was a warped wooden dressing table, that was looking worse for wear.
It probably hadn't helped that he had walked into it, for some reason he was finding himself feeling sorry for an inanimate object.
"I really am going insane." He muttered, continuing his evaluation of the room.
To his left there was a small blue rubbish bin, taking no interest in digging through it he decided to skip the examination of it.
To the left of the abused dresser, was a grimy mirror with small cracks in the side, Disgusting.. He thought was a perfect way to describe the entire ensemble of this "room"
As he approached the mirror, he noticed a tiny table beside it, one of it's drawer's was open. He decided he would get back to that after.
Licking his wrist he attempted to rub the grime off the mirror, he failed.
Now not only was it grimy, it was blurred with saliva.
Shrugging, he attempted to make out the figure in the mirror, it was impossible.
"Who are you.." He whispered aloud, glaring at his blurred reflection.
This whole situation was a nightmare, he'd woken up in a strange room(a shitty one at that.), He didn't know who he was,
Or any ideas on where the hell he could be.
'Take a deep breath, Calm down..' he thought as he lifted his arms above his head to stretch.
"Oh yeah." He glanced down at the side table, with the drawer that was slightly ajar, pulling the whole drawer out he carried it over to the bed and sat down with it.
He stirred the contents with his finger, then decided that it probably wasn't such a wise idea to do that seeing as one of the objects was a gun. Sighing he withdrew the gun, undid the clip,
swallowed and slid it back in. It was full he hadn't killed anyone, yet. Making sure the safety was on, he pushed it into his pocket.
Nodding to himself, he felt relieved, at least now he was armed. Looking back into the drawer he saw a doctor's folder.
'That's.. Strange..' He thought as he picked it up and ran his fingers over the print on the front.
"H.E.X 02269.." He read aloud, 'What is this..'
He carefully opened the file, as if it would explode if he hurried it.
Suddenly he was petrified, as if he was about to discover something horrible.
He stared blankly at the photo, the only item inside the folder.
It was a picture of a man, he looked young.. Possibly around 18. The boy had dark red hair and glowing purple eyes,
but something looked odd about him, he couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was.
The figure in the picture was topless, there was writing on his right side.
Biting his lip, he put the folder down.
Taking a deep breath he lifted his shirt and stared down at his chest, something black caught his eye.
Looking at his right side he saw it, a large black tattoo that covered the entire length of his torso.
'H.E.X 02269.'
Dropping the shirt, he grabbed his head as he started to hyperventilate.
'What is happening to me.. Where am i..' He grabbed the photo and shoved it into his pocket.
He needed to get out, but how.. The only way out was the door, and it was locked.
Walking back over to it he yanked on the handle, twisting and pulling.
'Damnit!'
He pressed both his palms on the faded wood and pushed, nothing. Hit it, nothing. Punched it, Nothing. He lost it.
"LET ME OUT!" He screamed, slamming his fists over and over again, splinters flying everywhere.
Taking a few steps back he launched himself at it, Nothing.
"This isn't happening.. I AM NOT GOING TO ROT HERE" Shouting he launched himself at the door again, this time he closed his eyes.
A strange feeling consumed his body, every inch tingled, He opened his eyes seconds before he crashed.
His shoulder slammed against a white wall.
"W-What!?" He stared at it in horror, clutching his shoulder. He was no longer in the shitty shoe box room, he was in a
dirty white corridor. Whipping his head around he stared at the door he believed had been his, it was marked with a number "4".
'No way.'
Using the wall as an aid, he pulled himself up and staggered over to the door, flinging the door open.
"Impossible.." He gasped, staring at the familiar scene, the ratty bed, the injured dressing table, the filthy mirror, the drawerless side table.
Stepping back he tried to swallow his fear. 'What just happened..' his brain was a tangled mess of thoughts and feelings.
Fear, confusion, desperation, emptiness.
The next thing he knew he was running, slamming doors out of his way, gasping as he watched them smash into the wall, exploding into millions of ting splinters.
"NO!" shouted as he screeched to a halt.
There was no point continuing if he didn't have a name, he slammed his hand into his pocket and gripped the picture, squeezing it tightly in his fist.
"H.E.X 02269.. Hex.. My name is.. Hex." Releasing the photo, he sighed.
He could continue now..
The world was shrouded in darkness.. Thats when he moved his hands.
That action didn't change much. "It must be nighttime.." he thought slowly.
He was sitting awkwardly on a bed, his hands now placed lightly on his knees.
Surveying the room he tried to take in his surroundings, Which was pretty much impossible seeing as it was almost pitch black.
He Wasn't going to make any progress sitting so he got up, Bad move, his head pounded in response as if it was telling him to give up and sit back down.
"Damn.." He grumbled, tumbling off to the side crashing into some type of storage unit.
He leaned against it for a moment, trying to sort his thoughts and gain some strength to search for a light switch.
He walked cautiously forward, seeing the outline of a door.
'Thank god..' Grabbing hold of the handle he turned it.
No good, it was locked. Leaning his head against the door he sighed in frustration.
Could it get any worse? He ran his hand up the wall next to the door, Smiling as they stumbled over the switch.
'Finally..' Flicking it on he winced in pain at the sudden burst of light.
His eyesight was slightly blurry, but besides that he could see.
He waited patiently for the world to climb into focus as soon as it did, He turned around so that he could map out the course he had taken to get to the door.
The room was like a swollen shoe box, small and square.
Still leaning against the door he examined the lack of furnishings.
There was a ratty single bed on the right side, pushed up against the wall.
That must have been where he was sitting, because opposite that was a warped wooden dressing table, that was looking worse for wear.
It probably hadn't helped that he had walked into it, for some reason he was finding himself feeling sorry for an inanimate object.
"I really am going insane." He muttered, continuing his evaluation of the room.
To his left there was a small blue rubbish bin, taking no interest in digging through it he decided to skip the examination of it.
To the left of the abused dresser, was a grimy mirror with small cracks in the side, Disgusting.. He thought was a perfect way to describe the entire ensemble of this "room"
As he approached the mirror, he noticed a tiny table beside it, one of it's drawer's was open. He decided he would get back to that after.
Licking his wrist he attempted to rub the grime off the mirror, he failed.
Now not only was it grimy, it was blurred with saliva.
Shrugging, he attempted to make out the figure in the mirror, it was impossible.
"Who are you.." He whispered aloud, glaring at his blurred reflection.
This whole situation was a nightmare, he'd woken up in a strange room(a shitty one at that.), He didn't know who he was,
Or any ideas on where the hell he could be.
'Take a deep breath, Calm down..' he thought as he lifted his arms above his head to stretch.
"Oh yeah." He glanced down at the side table, with the drawer that was slightly ajar, pulling the whole drawer out he carried it over to the bed and sat down with it.
He stirred the contents with his finger, then decided that it probably wasn't such a wise idea to do that seeing as one of the objects was a gun. Sighing he withdrew the gun, undid the clip,
swallowed and slid it back in. It was full he hadn't killed anyone, yet. Making sure the safety was on, he pushed it into his pocket.
Nodding to himself, he felt relieved, at least now he was armed. Looking back into the drawer he saw a doctor's folder.
'That's.. Strange..' He thought as he picked it up and ran his fingers over the print on the front.
"H.E.X 02269.." He read aloud, 'What is this..'
He carefully opened the file, as if it would explode if he hurried it.
Suddenly he was petrified, as if he was about to discover something horrible.
He stared blankly at the photo, the only item inside the folder.
It was a picture of a man, he looked young.. Possibly around 18. The boy had dark red hair and glowing purple eyes,
but something looked odd about him, he couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was.
The figure in the picture was topless, there was writing on his right side.
Biting his lip, he put the folder down.
Taking a deep breath he lifted his shirt and stared down at his chest, something black caught his eye.
Looking at his right side he saw it, a large black tattoo that covered the entire length of his torso.
'H.E.X 02269.'
Dropping the shirt, he grabbed his head as he started to hyperventilate.
'What is happening to me.. Where am i..' He grabbed the photo and shoved it into his pocket.
He needed to get out, but how.. The only way out was the door, and it was locked.
Walking back over to it he yanked on the handle, twisting and pulling.
'Damnit!'
He pressed both his palms on the faded wood and pushed, nothing. Hit it, nothing. Punched it, Nothing. He lost it.
"LET ME OUT!" He screamed, slamming his fists over and over again, splinters flying everywhere.
Taking a few steps back he launched himself at it, Nothing.
"This isn't happening.. I AM NOT GOING TO ROT HERE" Shouting he launched himself at the door again, this time he closed his eyes.
A strange feeling consumed his body, every inch tingled, He opened his eyes seconds before he crashed.
His shoulder slammed against a white wall.
"W-What!?" He stared at it in horror, clutching his shoulder. He was no longer in the shitty shoe box room, he was in a
dirty white corridor. Whipping his head around he stared at the door he believed had been his, it was marked with a number "4".
'No way.'
Using the wall as an aid, he pulled himself up and staggered over to the door, flinging the door open.
"Impossible.." He gasped, staring at the familiar scene, the ratty bed, the injured dressing table, the filthy mirror, the drawerless side table.
Stepping back he tried to swallow his fear. 'What just happened..' his brain was a tangled mess of thoughts and feelings.
Fear, confusion, desperation, emptiness.
The next thing he knew he was running, slamming doors out of his way, gasping as he watched them smash into the wall, exploding into millions of ting splinters.
"NO!" shouted as he screeched to a halt.
There was no point continuing if he didn't have a name, he slammed his hand into his pocket and gripped the picture, squeezing it tightly in his fist.
"H.E.X 02269.. Hex.. My name is.. Hex." Releasing the photo, he sighed.
He could continue now..