Post by claireavery on Jun 12, 2011 4:07:05 GMT -8
Clarity felt cold, unforgiving metal against the skin of her back. Her left arm was high above her head, her wrist was bound tightly in place. Her muscles burned and her joints screamed in agony as her entire body hung helplessly from the trapped limb
Her eyes opened abruptly and she thrashed her body wildly in fear, trying to find with her feet some type of support. All they found were vertical bars, so she smashed her feet between them and squeezed her ankles together to provide a minimal amount of support. Sweat poured down her face and stung her eyes as they searched the darkness in vain; looking for something, someone, anything to help her. Her heart pounded slowly and painfully in her chest, threatening to climb up into her throat and strangle her. Desperately she reached up with her other arm, seeking whatever it was she was hanging from. A handcuff, locked on to a horizontal support bar.
“A prison,” Claire breathed into the empty space around her.
The noise of electricity filled her ears. Someone had turned the lights on. All around her people hung in the same manner: from a hand fastened to a towering cell door, one that was too tall to fit on what would be a standard cell. No one was awake, and every one of them dangled lifelessly. The sharp snap of her bone startled Claire, sending her into action. She found that she had managed to swing herself around without consciously deciding to do so, and she began to climb up the bars, alleviating the pressure from her left shoulder and wrist. She climbed as high as could, deciding that if she could get high enough, she would be safe from whatever experiments they would conduct upon her.
After a moment that felt like an eternity, Claire realized that climbing the prison bars was very natural for her despite the uselessness of her left arm, as if she had done it all her life. She ascended skillfully, moving up as high as possible. Instinctively, her eyes landed upon where the key to her handcuff was; it was hung from a hook above the cell door, too far for her to reach.
The sound of footsteps alerted her to the presence of someone entering the area she was in. It was the clicking of heels, the sound a nurse makes when she clips down the hallway. She heard the familiar plastic wheels against the cruel tile floor. Looking over her shoulder, Claire saw everything clearly, and she understood what she was escaping from.
The drugs. Thousands of syringes that were about to be carted over to her by a nurse wearing a stark white dress and a scarlet smile.
Unable to move, Claire held her breath and stared at the door , waiting for the approaching shadow to seal her fate.
Her eyes opened abruptly and she thrashed her body wildly in fear, trying to find with her feet some type of support. All they found were vertical bars, so she smashed her feet between them and squeezed her ankles together to provide a minimal amount of support. Sweat poured down her face and stung her eyes as they searched the darkness in vain; looking for something, someone, anything to help her. Her heart pounded slowly and painfully in her chest, threatening to climb up into her throat and strangle her. Desperately she reached up with her other arm, seeking whatever it was she was hanging from. A handcuff, locked on to a horizontal support bar.
“A prison,” Claire breathed into the empty space around her.
The noise of electricity filled her ears. Someone had turned the lights on. All around her people hung in the same manner: from a hand fastened to a towering cell door, one that was too tall to fit on what would be a standard cell. No one was awake, and every one of them dangled lifelessly. The sharp snap of her bone startled Claire, sending her into action. She found that she had managed to swing herself around without consciously deciding to do so, and she began to climb up the bars, alleviating the pressure from her left shoulder and wrist. She climbed as high as could, deciding that if she could get high enough, she would be safe from whatever experiments they would conduct upon her.
After a moment that felt like an eternity, Claire realized that climbing the prison bars was very natural for her despite the uselessness of her left arm, as if she had done it all her life. She ascended skillfully, moving up as high as possible. Instinctively, her eyes landed upon where the key to her handcuff was; it was hung from a hook above the cell door, too far for her to reach.
The sound of footsteps alerted her to the presence of someone entering the area she was in. It was the clicking of heels, the sound a nurse makes when she clips down the hallway. She heard the familiar plastic wheels against the cruel tile floor. Looking over her shoulder, Claire saw everything clearly, and she understood what she was escaping from.
The drugs. Thousands of syringes that were about to be carted over to her by a nurse wearing a stark white dress and a scarlet smile.
Unable to move, Claire held her breath and stared at the door , waiting for the approaching shadow to seal her fate.