The Title is Absent
The Room
I heaved out trails of coughs, and I could have sworn I had seen some blood slip out from my dried lips (which, by the way, stung like a bitch). Without bothering to open my eyes just yet, I placed my hand over my side opposite of where it was and shifted onto my stomach. A solid, and almost slippery, surface was faced beneath me. Since when was this here? I asked myself quizzically, attempting to touch something other than cold, wet metal. Alas, there was nothing more. At least for the moment, there wasn't anything else that I was aware of. I opened my eyes wearily, squinting at the pained light that flashed in my eyes. "What the fuck?" was all I had managed to whisper out from my crisp throat, following along with a series of flaky coughs. For a moment, I could have sworn I was back home with Mars. For a moment, I could have sworn I actually liked the thought for once in my life.
Then, out of nowhere, I withdrew myself from the table in pain. Yes, it was a table. At least that's what I saw. It was okay though, because by the looks of it, I was pretty damn sure that I was in a hospital; the room was consumed with surgical objects--then again, I didn't see how some of the things were necessarily surgical. Kitchen appliances? Well, this was one hospital I didn't want to be in.
I had no idea how the hell I got here, and nor did I care at the moment. All I wanted to do was get out, or at least find a phone that I could use.
My body felt heavy, and I couldn't resist the shaking that shivered up at down the muscle in my arms. They felt strained, and it was pretty damn painful--especially when I finally lifted myself up and onto my feet, which hurt even worse.
Fuck. This wasn't going to be easy.
I scanned the room, searching for some sort of door or even a window. Nothing. Nothing except metal and kitchen/hospital appliances. What kind of hospital is this?
I heard the sound of a knob turning. Where the hell was that door? I looked up; god, I wish I had looked there before. It was an attic, and the small square for a door creaked up into the darkness as a small ladder started to slip down towards the table I had been set upon.
I suddenly realized that this wasn't a hospital.
Then, out of nowhere, I withdrew myself from the table in pain. Yes, it was a table. At least that's what I saw. It was okay though, because by the looks of it, I was pretty damn sure that I was in a hospital; the room was consumed with surgical objects--then again, I didn't see how some of the things were necessarily surgical. Kitchen appliances? Well, this was one hospital I didn't want to be in.
I had no idea how the hell I got here, and nor did I care at the moment. All I wanted to do was get out, or at least find a phone that I could use.
My body felt heavy, and I couldn't resist the shaking that shivered up at down the muscle in my arms. They felt strained, and it was pretty damn painful--especially when I finally lifted myself up and onto my feet, which hurt even worse.
Fuck. This wasn't going to be easy.
I scanned the room, searching for some sort of door or even a window. Nothing. Nothing except metal and kitchen/hospital appliances. What kind of hospital is this?
I heard the sound of a knob turning. Where the hell was that door? I looked up; god, I wish I had looked there before. It was an attic, and the small square for a door creaked up into the darkness as a small ladder started to slip down towards the table I had been set upon.
I suddenly realized that this wasn't a hospital.