A/N: This is just something that popped into my head. For those of you still waiting for an update on His Sorrowful Melody, I promise I haven't forgotten about it!
I'm awake; I blink but cannot see anything. As a matter of fact, I pretty sure that I cannot hear anything either-Oh!
No, wait. Yes, yes I can hear something.
What is that sound? Water, maybe? I don't feel wet. Maybe there's a pipe loose in here somewhere. Speaking of which, where am I again?
The floor is cold, and I try again to open my eyes, well eye rather because one of them is swollen shut. I still can't see anything out of the one eye though and I bring my hand up to my face to inspect it. There's something wet covering my face and I proceed to wipe it off. Ahh. Much better, I can see now so I look back down at my hand and find that there is blood all over it.
I can't freak out, I simply cannot.
I bring my hand back up to my face and feel around for the source of the blood and find a significant gash on my forehead. This cannot be good.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Well, something is leaking but it's not a pipe; it's my blood dripping onto the cold concrete below me. Wonderful.
I try to sit up and realize quickly that it wasn't my best idea; I think my ribs might be bruised. I look around finally, and take in my surroundings.
The room is quite big, concrete was everywhere; the floor and the walls. There is a staircase at the opposite side of the room leading up to a concrete door. There are various crates taking up most of the space in the room and a small stained mattress in the corner. I try not to think about what those stains are. What disturbs me the most, though, is the body that is lying still at the foot of the stairs.
Groaning, I slowly make my way over to the man lying on the floor. He is face up thankfully, because I don't think I could have flipped him over in my current state. It probably might be better if he was face down because from the looks of him he'd taken a hell of a beating. His face was beyond recognition and I'm pretty sure the rest of his body would be similar. I reach up and feel for a pulse and not surprisingly, there isn't one. Lovely.
Why am I not dead then? I mean I'm not complaining, I can deal with a little pain if it means I'm alive. Maybe they forgot about me, if that's the case I should probably try and get out of here. I stand up, albeit gingerly and climb the stairs slowly until I reach the concrete door. There is a rusted handle and I know it won't open but I try nonetheless. I press my ear up against it but I doubt I'll hear anything. Just as I start to pull away the handle jiggles.
I gape, stagger back and ungracefully fall down a few steps, stand up and hurry as fast as I can back to my bloody spot on the floor. Maybe if they think I haven't woken, they won't kill me. I'm lying back down now, in the same position as before as the door opens as harshly as a heavy concrete door can be opened. My eyes..er eye is clamped shut and I'm trying so hard to control my breathing. In one-two-three, out three-two-one...