The words reverberated in his mind again and again, creating a life of their own until they're just broken syllables of a wordless thought, so familiar it already had created a way of speaking to him without reason or rhyme. It was like that song his mother used to sing to him, so long ago he couldn't remember the words but would know the melody in his dreams, and he knew the story by heart, just unable to give words for it. His own voice a muffled cry, a shattered throb of a familiar heart, mumbling the meaningless words again and again.
My own way!
The dream was shapeless and yet he knew this was when he was freed. He was hurting, bones broken, flesh crushed, burned, roasted... He did not fancy himself this slow, in need of a beat down before realizing the imperfection of his mindscape. How difficult was it to say 'I'm doing this my own way'?
He blinked his eyes open, slowly staring into the darkness that surrounded him. His body was throbbing with pain, sprained muscles aching, broken bones screaming for his attention, bruises of deep purple the least of his worries. Groaning silently, he glanced around, trying to figure out where he was because his own room this most certainly was not. Through the thick darkness he could recognize shapes, just faceless shadows, unfamiliar.
Perhaps he was still dreaming.
The bed creaked gently under him as he struggled up to sit on the edge of the bed. Disoriented and confused, he couldn't quite decipher what had happened. He cleared his throat, and figured out that the room he was in wasn't too big deciding from the way his voice bounced back from the walls. In the dark, it was hard to say anything else about his surroundings.
"This better not be some new trick by that damn freakshow," he muttered and struggled up to his feet. The light switches usually were placed somewhere in the near vicinity of the door, door resided on a wall. Following this brilliant chain of thoughts, he took hesitant steps towards the opposite direction from the bed, arms held up protectively in front of him. When his knees pumped up against the other bed he growled silently and sidestepped until he could reach to the wall, then felt his way along with the wall until he reached to the door.
A pale grin of satisfaction tucking at the corners of his mouth, he fingered the wall beside the doorframe until he found the light switch. He'd figure out this stupid situation soon enough and then return back to his own room to sleep off the ache all around his body.
The grin died quickly on his lips as he flipped the switch from up to down and nothing happened. Snorting softly, he tried again. Still nothing. And again, and again, until an angry growl rouse from his throat and his fist connected with the door with a loud crack.
"What the fuck is up with this... this idiotic game? Where the hell am I?" he demanded to know. The silence was filled with only his own heavy panting, and yet again, he found himself curling his fingers into tight fists and cursing his bad luck.
"Who is responsible of this fuck up this time?" He yanked the door open as fast as he could with his injuries and stepped out without thinking twice about it.
[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/155538.html) (I'm an idiot who fails in simple html. Sorry for double post!)]
no subject
The words reverberated in his mind again and again, creating a life of their own until they're just broken syllables of a wordless thought, so familiar it already had created a way of speaking to him without reason or rhyme. It was like that song his mother used to sing to him, so long ago he couldn't remember the words but would know the melody in his dreams, and he knew the story by heart, just unable to give words for it. His own voice a muffled cry, a shattered throb of a familiar heart, mumbling the meaningless words again and again.
My own way!
The dream was shapeless and yet he knew this was when he was freed. He was hurting, bones broken, flesh crushed, burned, roasted... He did not fancy himself this slow, in need of a beat down before realizing the imperfection of his mindscape. How difficult was it to say 'I'm doing this my own way'?
He blinked his eyes open, slowly staring into the darkness that surrounded him. His body was throbbing with pain, sprained muscles aching, broken bones screaming for his attention, bruises of deep purple the least of his worries. Groaning silently, he glanced around, trying to figure out where he was because his own room this most certainly was not. Through the thick darkness he could recognize shapes, just faceless shadows, unfamiliar.
Perhaps he was still dreaming.
The bed creaked gently under him as he struggled up to sit on the edge of the bed. Disoriented and confused, he couldn't quite decipher what had happened. He cleared his throat, and figured out that the room he was in wasn't too big deciding from the way his voice bounced back from the walls. In the dark, it was hard to say anything else about his surroundings.
"This better not be some new trick by that damn freakshow," he muttered and struggled up to his feet. The light switches usually were placed somewhere in the near vicinity of the door, door resided on a wall. Following this brilliant chain of thoughts, he took hesitant steps towards the opposite direction from the bed, arms held up protectively in front of him. When his knees pumped up against the other bed he growled silently and sidestepped until he could reach to the wall, then felt his way along with the wall until he reached to the door.
A pale grin of satisfaction tucking at the corners of his mouth, he fingered the wall beside the doorframe until he found the light switch. He'd figure out this stupid situation soon enough and then return back to his own room to sleep off the ache all around his body.
The grin died quickly on his lips as he flipped the switch from up to down and nothing happened. Snorting softly, he tried again. Still nothing. And again, and again, until an angry growl rouse from his throat and his fist connected with the door with a loud crack.
"What the fuck is up with this... this idiotic game? Where the hell am I?" he demanded to know. The silence was filled with only his own heavy panting, and yet again, he found himself curling his fingers into tight fists and cursing his bad luck.
"Who is responsible of this fuck up this time?" He yanked the door open as fast as he could with his injuries and stepped out without thinking twice about it.
[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/155538.html) (I'm an idiot who fails in simple html. Sorry for double post!)]