HIS AWAKE WITHOUT WARNING, eyes flung so wide as if his breathing was being restrained. He woke up faster than a cat in ice-water, every senses urging clawing at him, as drowsiness gets folks dead, fast. Only the paranoid survive.
A pain engulfed him. Feeling an aching pain running through his body, the ache was dull though, as if some lazy torturer is standing right behind him, only applying enough pressure to be an annoyance. It sits there, just to the side of the right should be their blade towards the spine.
For a moment, the world was a blur of dull colours. As soon as his vision came in to focus, he wished it hadn't, for he found himself bound once again within a place he'd thought he'd never be in. Shackled like some kind of monster. 'I am a monster.'
His ankles and wrists tied, chaining him to the solid wall behind him. Every time he so much as shifted, the chains made echoing noises that seemed to go on forever. Whoever had put him within this position would surely pay.
He felt the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in his abdomen. Being chained, it brought strong memories that he so desperately tried so hard to burry. To forget. They haunted his dreams, he couldn't escape them but now those dreams became all too real. Tension grew within him and he felt it within his limbs, imprisoned by his mind as it replayed each memory he'd push to the back of his mind. Breathing rapidly, as time went by more shallow. What was happening to him? He hasn't been like this since he was younger? The thoughts are accelerating inside his mind, becoming too consuming and overbearing but he couldn't stop, he needed to get out of here.
He so badly wanted his thoughts to slow down so he could get out of them yet it seemed that he couldn't breathe. The room around him seemed to not even contain any oxygen he could breathe for relief, each small breath he sucked in came out like gasps. I can't breathe!
'Breathe Gray... concentrate,'you're only having a panic attack.' He kept reassuring himself as if it would work. He was actually falling apart, the feeling as if he would black out was prominent, heart hammered inside his chest as if it belonged to a rabbit running for its skin.
The room felt like it was spinning, enabling him to try and focus to assess his surroundings but it was hard as his efforts to try and slow everything down so his brain and body can cope with. He felt sick. He hasn't had a panic attack since he was sixteen, yet this one was unbearable, he hated this. He hated feeling weak.
The prison cell was a hollow cube of concrete, one way in, no windows. In there you could have no idea how much time had passed or even if it was night or day. It was totally disorientating by design. Given enough time a person could forget their own name in there. The isolation was total and the stimulation was zero. No sound, no light, no furniture or cloth of any kind. It was all a prisoner could do to feel the cool walls, but even they were smooth he thought.
The panic that he felt, seemed to grow but it was soon over powered by the anger that consumed his entity. This was his breaking point. At that moment, he was blinded by a five-course serving of rage that toasted bitter, yet surprisingly satisfying. He pulled at the chains that bound him, the angrier he got the more he pulled vigorously. As anger seemed to be the vexing of his soul, a swelling of the veins waiting to explode. It's like the rushing of blood to the head.
Freedom was calling his name.
The chains began to break its tight grip that bound him, after its done its damage to his tan skin, burning his wrists, his flesh sizzling under the silver chains as the smell of burnt flesh loomed the air around him. Why did things like this happen to him? What did he every do to Fate to deserve this? Whatever it was, he must of done something really bad to get the wrong end of the stick. When the chains had finally broken completely, a breathe of relief escaped his mouth.
He wasn't sure where about he was, besides being in a prison cell. There was one way in and one way out, and he was getting out one way or another, he didn't care who he had to kill to do so. There was a tenseness to his muscles that made him feel more like a mannequin than the man of flesh and bone. His brain felt a violent whirl of stupidity, trying to organise the chaos that surrounded him in that moment. He tried to come up with a plan to breakout but, from what he can tell there is only one way to do so.
A Slamming of his foot towards the cellar door, breaking the hinges as it came crashing down making a loud thudding sound, that echoed throughout the hallway. Everything was covered in sliver, the doors and walls, even the floor beneath him. What the hell? Where the hell was am I? Well he was about find out.
Where was Emily? He needed to find her, she must be in one of the prison cells, just as he was. She has to be. He needed her.
What a dark, unforgiving place this seems. The hall was narrow and long with flickering, yellow lights above him, that seemed to do a poorly bad job at keeping this place lit. You might just as well get rid of them. He moved slowly with caution down the hallway, his senses on high alert, whoever did this to him will have people guarding the cellar down here.
Rubbing his wrist gently, he tried to ease the lingering pain that remained from the burning silver, he should be used to that feeling by now but it still hurt like a bitch each time he was exposed to it.
Something felt off about this, and he knew that. It was way too quiet around him, there should be guards around here to make sure something like this never happened, but that wasn't the case. Everything was quiet, too quiet. Where the hell am I? Emily should be here, somewhere? but she wasn't.
He walked down to the end of the hallway and didn't find her. Something didn't feel right, was he missing something? The harder he tried to listen into the sounds that were too unattainable to listen to with human ears, the closer he listened the more he picked up- the tapping of water dripping on the surface and the clicking of metal on metal...keys colliding with one another. Little things like that he could hear but, he needed to focus even harder into the the muffled voices upstairs.
Werewolves always had heightened sense when it came to sight and hearing but his were amplified by a ton. "You need to let him out?" The female voice seemed recognisable to him, he had heard it before.
"No his dangerous" The male seemed stubborn and firm with his answer. Where they talking about him? Well if they were, they got one thing right. He was dangerous.
"You don't understand-" the female pleaded with the male, her desperation etched in her voice.
"Know your place Emily, I am the Alpha not you and when I say no, I mean no." Emily?! what game is she playing? Why was she talking to an Alpha? which Alpha? from what he can remember they were making their way to the palace, Grayson thought, but at the same time he was too relived to even care if he was in a werewolf territory, as long as he wasn't in the hands of Marcel it was fine. He knew he could handle this.
"You don't understand-"
"That's enough!" The Alpha's voice boomed, causing Grayson to wince in pain. The frequency of the voice was too unbearable to listen to anymore, it became painful. He needed to get out of here.
Grayson came face to face with the only door that allowed anyone a way in and out. The metal door held it's strong form in front of him, huh... no wonder they didn't have guards down here. He traced the door with his fingers, burning the tips off, sizzling a bit of his flesh off, evaporating a part of his identity. Silver. What is it with everyone and using silver? he thought. How did they even manage to get him in here without them effecting themselves? However they did, it mustn't have been pretty.
This for sure was going to hurt him. Grayson, braced himself as he placed his palms on the door. The pain leaving an unpleasant warmth to it, as it ate at his flesh. Burning away the organ, blood flowing like a lazy river. It flowed like so much red gravy down the door and down on to the concrete beneath his feet.
Pushing the door open with as much force as possible, he knew this wasn't an ideal way to escape but what other way was there. Wait until they came, I doubt they would even come down here.
There's nausea too, just enough to make him hold onto the door for support and breath slowly, but that caused him further pain. He had to prize himself for ignoring the pain and pushing the door further with his force. The hinges almost breaking, making a slight movement.
His body protested against the violation on its protective barrier, as it screamed against the silver. Blood still, it drips silently. Fast, it runs in streams. He was on the verge of passing out, he knew silver wasn't going to kill him but it didn't mean it wasn't going to some major damage. And the damage it did.
The state of his hands looked as if they had been burnt in a roasting fire. His urge to give up and give in to the pain was very alluring, but his will to break free was far more stronger than a moment's rest. A sound of breaking door, hitting the concrete with a thud, yet this time it is a music that vanishes deep scars; for he is the one escaping a prison. An ear-splitting sound that could be heard for miles, no doubt they heard it.
He had to move quickly. Shortage of breath is the first sign, when you are exposed to silver for far too long. His breathing but the air just didn't seem to want to go in, like his lungs are surrounded by metal bands. Next comes the rising panic. The dizzying feeling and the need to get low to the ground. The world around him seems to move faster, as if he stood still, maybe because he was or maybe because the pain had its effects on his body. But he had to ignore it, he had to move. Fast.
He wondered if the perspective of the chaser, if they can fathom the fear of the chased. For in this need to escape his head and heart go to the place that is crushed and without light or much to bring a comforting spark. He can feel the screaming of his lungs and the will of his muscle to go far beyond what exercise could ever demand. This is the body and the brain if full survival mode and it is nothing but pain.