Chapter 1 of New Fic
Hi I'm posting again. This damn plot bunny bit me last night as I was trying to sleep and it damn well didn't leave me alone until I wrote a prologue. Strangely enough this is a CSI:Miami slash fic. I can't just stick to one fandom can I? Or at least just one genre? Aww damn it all to hell. Anyway I don't know when a proper chapter of this will be ready cause my muse is getting lasy due to Christmas. Just thought I'd get it posted before returning to homework. Here ya go.
When he woke up he immediately knew something was missing. He was in an alleyway surrounded by dumpsters and grey walls. Darkness shrouded the sky so he guessed it was well into the night, maybe even early morning. A groan fell from his lips as he sat up. He ached all over, the back of his head being the sharpest of pains. He hissed when he pressed two fingers against the centre of the stabbing pain. He withdrew his fingers and stared at the crimson tainted digits. He was bleeding. He frowned and walked out of the alley. Not a single soul was wondering the darkened street.
He looked around but nothing seemed familiar so he walked down the ghost-street and managed to find a public toilet. Maybe he could get the blood to stop flowing before he continued on. He saw the hand towel and after a quick check to see it was relatively clean, he pressed it against the oozing wound. He hissed in pain for a second time. He walked across the small public restroom and something caught his eye. He turned to his left and stared at the stranger he saw watching him. He blinked and realised he was staring into a mirror.
His eyes widened in panic. He didn't recognise his own reflection! He tried to rack his memories for his name, for anything at all. He couldn't remember anything! It was like his memories had been blanked out! He didn't know anything! He didn't know who he was, if he was married, what he worked as, who his family was! He didn't know anything about himself! He looked at his reflection, drinking in his appearance, praying something felt familiar.
He was an average height though something instinctively told him he was small compared to others in his family. How did he know that? He shook his head, careful to keep the towel on his wound, and concentrated back on his reflection. He was wearing a suit that had a few rips in it. Maybe he had been in a fight? His skin was pale, almost white. He had high cheek-bones and full lips. He had a small nose with barely seen freckles littering across the bridge of his nose. He hazarded a guess that if he had been out in the sun more the freckles on his skin would have shown more. Blue eyes that refused to be called any hue but their own stared blankly back at him. Messy, fiery red hair fell across his forehead.
He committed this image to his blank memory. He may not remember who he was but at the very least he would know what he looked like. He needed something to hold onto. He needed to find out who he was but first he needed to fix his wound. Something struck him as odd, he should have thought about going to see a doctor by now but something inside of him scream the negative to that idea. He had nothing to go on but his instincts so he wouldn't go to the hospital. He sighed. He felt exhausted; maybe he should find somewhere to sleep, just for the night. Tomorrow would come soon and hopefully bring his memories to him along with it.
That's all for now...
Ahh! Damn plot bunnies! Leave me alone! I need sleep for school tomorrow.
I gotta run from the bunnies, bye.
When he woke up he immediately knew something was missing. He was in an alleyway surrounded by dumpsters and grey walls. Darkness shrouded the sky so he guessed it was well into the night, maybe even early morning. A groan fell from his lips as he sat up. He ached all over, the back of his head being the sharpest of pains. He hissed when he pressed two fingers against the centre of the stabbing pain. He withdrew his fingers and stared at the crimson tainted digits. He was bleeding. He frowned and walked out of the alley. Not a single soul was wondering the darkened street.
He looked around but nothing seemed familiar so he walked down the ghost-street and managed to find a public toilet. Maybe he could get the blood to stop flowing before he continued on. He saw the hand towel and after a quick check to see it was relatively clean, he pressed it against the oozing wound. He hissed in pain for a second time. He walked across the small public restroom and something caught his eye. He turned to his left and stared at the stranger he saw watching him. He blinked and realised he was staring into a mirror.
His eyes widened in panic. He didn't recognise his own reflection! He tried to rack his memories for his name, for anything at all. He couldn't remember anything! It was like his memories had been blanked out! He didn't know anything! He didn't know who he was, if he was married, what he worked as, who his family was! He didn't know anything about himself! He looked at his reflection, drinking in his appearance, praying something felt familiar.
He was an average height though something instinctively told him he was small compared to others in his family. How did he know that? He shook his head, careful to keep the towel on his wound, and concentrated back on his reflection. He was wearing a suit that had a few rips in it. Maybe he had been in a fight? His skin was pale, almost white. He had high cheek-bones and full lips. He had a small nose with barely seen freckles littering across the bridge of his nose. He hazarded a guess that if he had been out in the sun more the freckles on his skin would have shown more. Blue eyes that refused to be called any hue but their own stared blankly back at him. Messy, fiery red hair fell across his forehead.
He committed this image to his blank memory. He may not remember who he was but at the very least he would know what he looked like. He needed something to hold onto. He needed to find out who he was but first he needed to fix his wound. Something struck him as odd, he should have thought about going to see a doctor by now but something inside of him scream the negative to that idea. He had nothing to go on but his instincts so he wouldn't go to the hospital. He sighed. He felt exhausted; maybe he should find somewhere to sleep, just for the night. Tomorrow would come soon and hopefully bring his memories to him along with it.
That's all for now...
Ahh! Damn plot bunnies! Leave me alone! I need sleep for school tomorrow.
I gotta run from the bunnies, bye.