Night 45: Morgue
It didn't really feel like waking.
His breath came back to him slowly, and each bit of oxygen that he took in went down cold and numb. His whole body was numb, to the point that he wasn't even sure if he was really there. Where did people go when they died? He'd never known.
As his eyes (if that was really what he was seeing out of anymore) opened, he saw nothing but blackness in front of him. Was he standing up, lying down, floating? Did he exist? He had to. He could think, and he could remember the way those fingers had squeezed around his neck...
Another breath (a breath), and suddenly the pain in his throat started. It was sore the whole way round, almost like a broken bone-even though that made no sense. Slowly but surely, his sense of his physical form came back to him, and he realized that he was alive.
Alive and trapped.
His arms could still barely move (on top of possibly still being broken, they were numbed from the cold), and so Guy concentrated on moving his legs, waiting for the feeling to come back into them. They'd weathered the least damage in the battle, and so he used them to slide over cold metal and figure out his surroundings. He was in some sort of tube, completely enclosed, and it was only as he jammed his foot against the lower part of his cage that he realized he might be able to get out.
Actually forcing the door (if that's what it was) all the way open was going to be a feat, though. He banged his foot against it again, trying to force it to slide open. If only he could move his arms!
Then again, if he could, they would probably ache too much to do anything with. He realized he should be grateful for the general lack of feeling for now. When he really started to warm up again, it wasn't going to be pretty.
His mind was spinning, wondering how this had even happened, and yet right now he was just going to focus on getting out and figuring out where he was. From there he could try and answer the how.
His breath came back to him slowly, and each bit of oxygen that he took in went down cold and numb. His whole body was numb, to the point that he wasn't even sure if he was really there. Where did people go when they died? He'd never known.
As his eyes (if that was really what he was seeing out of anymore) opened, he saw nothing but blackness in front of him. Was he standing up, lying down, floating? Did he exist? He had to. He could think, and he could remember the way those fingers had squeezed around his neck...
Another breath (a breath), and suddenly the pain in his throat started. It was sore the whole way round, almost like a broken bone-even though that made no sense. Slowly but surely, his sense of his physical form came back to him, and he realized that he was alive.
Alive and trapped.
His arms could still barely move (on top of possibly still being broken, they were numbed from the cold), and so Guy concentrated on moving his legs, waiting for the feeling to come back into them. They'd weathered the least damage in the battle, and so he used them to slide over cold metal and figure out his surroundings. He was in some sort of tube, completely enclosed, and it was only as he jammed his foot against the lower part of his cage that he realized he might be able to get out.
Actually forcing the door (if that's what it was) all the way open was going to be a feat, though. He banged his foot against it again, trying to force it to slide open. If only he could move his arms!
Then again, if he could, they would probably ache too much to do anything with. He realized he should be grateful for the general lack of feeling for now. When he really started to warm up again, it wasn't going to be pretty.
His mind was spinning, wondering how this had even happened, and yet right now he was just going to focus on getting out and figuring out where he was. From there he could try and answer the how.