Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2013 0:12:49 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 498px; height: 653px; background-image:url(http://i596.photobucket.com/albums/tt49/eristhoughts/table_zpscd0ee261.png)] What was most unnerving of all was the silence. There should have been noise, some thrum to suggest that life existed in the endless stretch of white and steel. But no. It was silent, dead silent. The sort of silence that will seep into the bones and the blood and remain indefinitely, haunting the soul. The taste in her mouth was metallic, like how she thought blood smelled, or like a penny. Her friend Marge had told her to suck on one to quench the stench of beer on her breath, but Hazel had never figured out if it worked or not. It just left this weird taste in her mouth. This taste like blood smelled. She opened her eyes to an assault of white, not understanding anything about where she was or what she was doing. A part of her hoped this was just another hangover day. Oh, yeah. A part of her hoped she was just waking up in someone's bed, opening her eyes to white, white walls instead of the ones back at her house, painted sky blue. That may have been unsettling in some regards, but it would have been a helluva lot better than coming to the realization that the last six months had not been a dream. She was in the Menagerie still and she now recognized this place as the compound. The silence ached; she could almost hear the buzz of it, its own kind of noise. Everything around her was white and she had the impression that she was being watched. Of course I'm being watched, Hazel thought. I'm probably being broadcast on some live camera, looking like shit. I probably have twigs in my hair. It was moments like these when she fell back to the old, almost petty thoughts of her past. But it was easier than facing the truth, which was that she was alone and afraid and her mouth tasted like pennies still... But, add emphasis on afraid. She looked down to discover that her slender hands were shaking and that, what had once been a set of manicured nails, were bitten to the quick and dirtied. Roughly three hours later, Subject 23490 was removed from solitary confinement to be relocated into the rest of the compound. By then, Hazel had come to the conclusion that it was better to fighting than peacefully. Thus, she was dragged kicking and screaming down the hallway, the threat of electrical prods and harsh blows. She was screaming so loud that her lungs were raw, screaming and screaming and screaming-- Hazel blacked out then. One of them had prodded her with the electrical rod, right against the spine. It made her muscles stiff when she woke up. She discovered that she was strung between two security officers as a third began to undo the latch of an cell. Hazel, peering through the bars, discovered that there was another occupant... She was rarely one for selfless thoughts and so her immediate reaction was to think that he might help her. Hazel cocked her head, trying to think about how to get out of this crappy situation. After fumbling, the guard managed to unlock the cage. That was when Hazel made her move. She had been limp, but now she savagely tore from the grip of her holders, letting out a hoarse yell. A moment of elation punctuated the sound--she was free, she was free! That was until the first crushing blow came and a curse from one of the more ornery guards. They were fed up with her--Hazel collapsed, grimacing as a rain of blows came down upon her, punches and kicks and then the overwhelming spark of an electrical prod. It lit up her world. She was not aware of it, but she was screaming for an entirely different reason. The pain of it. Through the blur of her hysteric tears and the agony, she could hear the horrible things they were calling her. A small, rational part of her realized that the door was not entirely shut. The shifter within was still there, watching. Hazel felt the sharp blow of a kick to her ribs and she thought, not without irony, that this would not be airing on any broadcast. Then came a smack to her face; her nose was bloodied, thick crimson blood splattering on the floor. Her mouth tasted like pennies. But the door was open. Idiots. With a small remainder of her strength, Hazel wedged her booted foot in the small opening of the door, kicking it open with sudden savagery. It banged against the opposite cage, a harsh sound. The guards had paused their neglect, unaware of what she had done. And then one turned to her, where she lay grinning with a mouthful of bloody teeth, her nose swelling and her lips torn open by the knuckles of one of her assailants. "You little--" He didn't finish. |