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damned_institute2012-08-12 01:17 pm
his_legacy) wrote in damned_institute2012-08-12 01:17 pm
NIGHT 65: M1-M10 HALLWAY
As soon as the intercom was through, Link was off at a sprint. He carried the pillow case,his flashlight, and the knife from the previous evening.
There were now two tasks to be accomplished: Supplies for Sora, and another clue in the X-Ray Room. Two birds with one stone in the medical wing. There wasn't a moment to lose.
Sora could already be gone by the time he returned.
[To here]
There were now two tasks to be accomplished: Supplies for Sora, and another clue in the X-Ray Room. Two birds with one stone in the medical wing. There wasn't a moment to lose.
Sora could already be gone by the time he returned.
[To here]
no subject
No! That wasn't supposed to happen! At the very best, Kyousuke thought he'd stun or delay the creature, and that was only at best; he half expected it to sink its claws into him again right away. But not only was the light effective, it was too effective, and now instead of giving him a chance to stop it, he'd only chased it into halls to find more victims. Dammit! He had to move before something happened!
He got onto to his feet for the second time, and tore his way into the hall, moving to the end as fast as he could allow himself. This time, he was careful about where he shined his light, but it was no good. The creature was already gone. There was absolutely no time to waste if he wanted to catch it in the next hall, but for a moment, he was torn. .... His chest. Should he be chasing something like this? The wound didn't feel very deep, but because of the location, there was a lot of blood; most of the front of his shirt was red now. He wasn't sure how bad it was, since his hand was still pressed against it and he didn't want to move it, but...
... He had to go back. It wasn't going to help anyone if he kept bleeding like this. His instincts seemed to want to keep pulling him forward, and it took all the willpower he had to pull himself away and trudge back to the room. He hated it, and cursed every single step, but the fact remained he couldn't get far if he didn't do something about this wound. He stepped back inside, tentatively removing his hand, and tossing off the torn shirt. He reached for portions of the sheet that hadn't been pulled apart, and began to pull them around his torso. It didn't seem to be helping much more than his shirt and hand had, and the adrenaline was from the encounter was wearing off, being replaced with pain. ... A lot of pain. Even just breathing hurt.
His hands tightened around the scraps of cloth he held, and he squeezed his shut. For the first time tonight, he could actually think to be afraid for himself. To think that he'd considered running without doing anything about this... But the wound was shallow, and nothing seemed to be punctured... Maybe it was his ribs. That would be more more manageable. ... Probably. Basic first aid didn't elude him, but this wasn't something within his knowledge. All he could say was that it was hard to breathe, but he didn't seem to coughing anything up, and that was probably a good sign.
Done with the sheets, he grabbed his flashlight again and pushed his way back into the hall. He left the shirt; it was totally useless, and it would probably just scare people. The sheets around his chest were red too, but not quite as much. Maybe the blood was starting to slow. He didn't know. ... He didn't want want to focus on it anymore.
[to durr]