Immaculate Misconceptions

He could feel himself waking up... His eyes lids felt heavy and something about his body felt awfully numb. His vision was blurred and the dim lights seemed brighter than they should've. The room continued to spin and he let out an audible groan as he moved himself...
Memories flashed through his head and Chris found himself jerking upwards, fully alert. Something about the movement sent his world spinning, he could feel his chest and stomach tighten suddenly, lurching himself forward, his lungs emptied themselves of the water that had threatened to suffocate them. He hacked and sputtered as everything seemed to pour out in continuous streams. He coughed and wheezed as there was some kind of relief coursing through him.
He was alive.
But was that really something to be relieved about?

He was shaking now... What they did to him... My God, what they did to him. Did he dare look down?
He squeezed his eyes shut as he seemed to sway, humming a melody that he found comforting in his current time of need. Did he dare? Did he want to know? They stripped him of everything he was, they ripped the identity from his body and now... What was left?
With eyes still shut, his shaky fingers hugged his upper arms...
The skin...
It felt crisp, almost leathery. It felt as if there was a film lying over the wrinkled skin.
It felt disgusting.
His lip quivered as he focused on what his finger tips were feeling, shribbled skin that was burnt to the point he could feel some of the tendons of his muscles. The skin was raw with a clear film accumulating over it in a weak attempt to mock the skin he lacked.
Don't you dare open your eyes.
Open your eyes.

He let out a frustrated scream, "Argh!" But it ended in a choked sob as he looked down at his arms, his legs, his thighs, his hands. Even the skin itself had a disgusting wrinkled look to it... Lumpy and uneven. Red and purple and just... just ugly.
He felt ugly.
He covered his face with his hands to mute his own cries. He wanted to scream and curse and pound at the ground but what good would that do?
He took deep breaths, he couldn't break down now. Not here, not now, not ever. He can't keep thinking that this is just about him because this was about way more than just him and his music. He was fighting for so much more, for so many kids, people, and outcasts.
The film cracked and sent small stings of pain along his arms and shoulders as he started to push himself up from the ground. He was so tired but there was an advantage here... They must've thought Chris wasn't going to wake up for a while or that he wasn't going to last the night because his arms were free. There were no heavy chains to hold him down and he wasn't strapped down to anything. They just threw him on the harsh ground like a piece of garbage.
He'll show em.
He's stronger than they think he is because unlike them, he had an amazing family. He had amazing people waiting for his return and right now they were all screaming in his head.
Get up.
Chris “Motionless” Cerulli, Get up.
Get.
Up.

He staggered and his first step sent him crashing down onto the floor, his chin skidding across the dirt but with a growl he shoved himself back up and forward with enough force to propel himself forward. He struggled to keep his balance but managed well on his own, only faltering to wince as his skin cracked and began to bleed.
Which way is which? Where was he? Which side of the room?
Over there, the staircase.
His breathing was hard and strained, his ribs screamed: STAY STILL.
No, he will NOT stay still.
He crashed into the wall involuntarily and let out a whimper as a sharp pangs of pain coursed through him.
Keep going.
He looked up at the stairs; the room above was brightly illuminated. It was day. But what day was it? He lurched forward but his legs gave in causing him to collapse on top of the stairs, a step wedged itself between his ribs and he grunted as it bruised him. He had to breathe, he was too panicked.

He took a moment to pause and just listen to his surroundings... There were no footsteps nor were there murmurs of voices. He moved and his body seared in pain as he pushed himself past his limits.
His phone! It was still lying in the corner where he kicked it. He let himself slide off the staircase and reached for it, pieces of the screen fell as he dragged it towards him and held it in his hands. The phone was completely destroyed and even if it could still turn on, it would've been on for the past 5 days and the battery would've died out long ago considering Chris hadn't charged it in the first place. In any other given moment he would've considered the phone useless but his brain was working now.
The phone held his sim card with all his information on it. All he needed to do was get the sim card into another phone and the signal to his cell phone would turn back on.
He clenched the phone in his hand, this was his lifeline now. If anything, he just needed to get the device to SOMEONE, ANYONE. He brought himself back up on his feet and let himself sway for a while until the staircase settled in front of him; he had to be quick now... Who knows how fast his clock was ticking.
His hand wrapped around the banister tightly, he forced himself to continue looking forward, deep into the natural light as he hauled himself up the first couple of steps. His knees buckled and he fell hard, the broken phone screen cut into the palms of his hands but he pulled himself back up with painful tears swelling in his eyes.
Keep going.
Did his band stay in New York? Or did they move on without him? Did the fans know? God, his legs. He whimpered feeling blisters crack on his skin and tiny streams of blood follow the disfigured grooves in his skin, but with each step his bare feet took on the splintered wood, he grew more confident. He was getting closer and closer and still the only sounds were from his own two feet moving up the steps.
'Just two more,' he thought to himself as he gazed down at the steps, his stomach churned and he vomited violently. He cringed as he stepped in the puddle of his own stomach contents, they were bloody. He was bleeding internally. How much longer?

As he reached the top step, his body did not relax. The sun that peeked through the abandoned windows of the warehouse blinded him and he found himself stumbling around the large area without any knowledge of where he was. He cried out as he walked into something that pushed against a cracked ribs and had his stomach searing.
Keep quiet.
He bit down onto his own lip as he gripped the object which seemed stable enough. He regained his balance before pushing himself off it, propelling himself towards the "doorway" across the large room. His fingers dug into his own abdomen as he tried to suppress the pain, his body was hunched forward and it only added pressure to his busted ribs and his swelled insides.
His breathing was quickening and his feet moved faster, padding across the room in a smooth rhythm.
Dear God, the sun.
He clutched onto the open doorway that lacked a door, looking across the area and up into the sky. Such a blue and beautiful sky that hung above a place filled with terrorizing nightmares that no one would even suspect were occurring at the time.
Using the doorway, he propelled himself to the next stable object: The police car.
No one was inside and as he landed against it with a thump, it only rocked. Everything was cold... No one has been driving it and not even the car alarm was on.
It was useless to his cause.
He squeezed the phone again, as if to remind himself it was still there as he moved himself towards the back of the vehicle,
There was the road. But it seems like common sense that someone trying to escape would follow the road. No, Chris would have to hide in the trees. He'd have to venture a few feet away from the road to ensure that he was concealed enough that he could actually get somewhere.
He heard a muted thump somewhere behind him and as if that was the queue, his feet moved. His breathing was raspy and dry and branches licked at his skin harshly, scratching the exposed flesh that lacked that extra layer that was supposed to be there.
Where was he going?
His chest heaved and he groaned as his shoulder knocked into a tree but he kept moving. Did they know he was gone?

Chris’ foot got caught on a large rock and he fell to the floor with a loud yelp. His body skidded slightly; dragging against the dirt, pebbles, and twigs that cut new wounds into his damaged skin. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he looked up with a pained expression, to his surprise; two teenagers stared down at him with wide and terrified eyes. He probably looked like a monster.
But look,
On the boy’s wrist was a “Motionless in White” wrist band.
“Help me,” Chris looked up, almost begging.
“Oh my God,” The girl’s eyes welled up with tears as she stared at the battered, disfigured, and awfully thin Chris Motionless.
“Are you ok man?!” The boy was horrified but he had to be brave in front of his girl and he could swear the man looked familiar. He grimaced as he gripped the man’s upper arm and felt the stickiness of his blood and the odd texture of his skin. He was so dirty and he kind of smelled.
Chris staggered and laid his weight against the boy that was much shorter than him, does he recognize him? He shook; these were the first real people he’s seen in days. Sane people. Kind people.
“What happened to you…?” The boy’s voice was barely a whisper as he looked over Chris’ mangled body with scared eyes.

Chris heard yelling in the distance and his heart picked up its pace again. He lurched forward, off balance for a moment before shoving the shattered phone into the boy’s hands,
“Whoa, take it easy man.” The boy was startled but held onto the phone, “What is this?”
“Take…” Chris’ voice was so dry, he hadn’t realized how thirsty he was; “Take that to someone. Anyone. Turn it on. Get the sim card on and working.” His voice was raspy and absolutely horrid.
The boy stared down at the shattered phone, then up to Chris, then to his girlfriend who was still terrified of the hideous man.

The yelling got louder and with impulse Chris shoved the boy, “Go! Get out of here!” He screamed.
The girl screamed terrified and the boy fell backwards with the force of Chris’ push. His girlfriend rushed to his side and helped him up quickly as he stared in shock at the familiar face.
“Arg!” Chris wrapped his arms tightly around his abdomen as he felt a sharp pain; he looked up again with tears running down his face… It hurt so bad, “Run! Get out of here! PLEASE! YOU GOTTA GO!” The yelling was getting closer. The boy started backing up slowly, “RUN GOD DAMN IT! FUCKING RUN!” Chris hollered but his heart stopped at the look in the boy’s face.

The two teenagers suddenly bolted as Chris fell to the floor with a scream of pain. He looked down at his wrist, it was bleeding and there was a leather strap wrapped around it. The strap pulled back roughly, yanking Chris into a stumble as it unraveled from around his wrist. There was a sharp snapping sound and the leather licked at his cheek, another crack and it sliced into his shoulder sending him to the floor, clutching the wound while squirming as his insides screamed at him. Another crack and the leather sliced at his stomach.
No, no, no!
Two strong pairs of arms hauled him back onto his feet and twisted his hands behind his back. They cuffed him again and he tugged against them, growling and grunting.
He was so close.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw two men run into the trees,
“NO!” He screamed, “Leave them alone!” His scream seemed to echo and he felt someone grab his hair and yank him backwards. He kicked and squirmed as they dragged him, “LEAVE THEM ALONE!” He kicked, “LEAVE THEM ALONE!” He begged.

~~

“I-I can’t.” Cassie huffed, her boyfriend Troy continued to tug her arm.
“We have to keep going!” he cried, his heart was racing and he was terrified of the large men that has struck Chris Motionless with a whip. But was it really Chris Motionless? I mean, wasn’t he back on tour? He was released from prison a while ago… It seemed to be impossible but he could never forget the face that saved his life. The voice, although extremely distressed and raw, was the same that wove the words that comforted him in his time of need. What has happened to Chris Motionless?
“I’m so tired,” His girlfriend whimpered, it was getting harder to pull her.
He heard rustling behind her, “Cassie! Please! Come on!” He begged; he squeezed the shattered iPhone in his palm so hard… The road was only a couple of more feet away.

A couple of more feet away from safety.

“I can’t,” She sobbed, she was breaking down. Who was that man? Why did he look like that?

It’s over.
They’re too close.
Troy choked a sob, turning to look in the direction of the road as he heard Cassie scream. He pulled his arm back and with all his force he threw the phone high and far towards civilization before his own scream caused the birds in the trees to scramble in terror.