*......................*
The ceiling tiles are maddeningly familiar, and he knows he's seen them before, but he can't recall when. His mind keeps slipping offtopic, nothing stays still. Even the ceiling tile has begun to wobble a bit, and he closes his eyes against the dizziness that causes. He still feels hot, but now to add insult to injury he's sticky and clammy-cold all at once, something he's not entirely fond of. He opens his eyes and glares balefully up at the ceiling once again, cursing it's constant movement. His head rolls to the side and he can see two figures stretched out against one another in a nearby chair.
He thinks he might know them....but he's not sure, and they begin to waver and wobble as well, so he just closes his eyes and sighs.
He must've dropped off, because it's dark when he opens his eyes again, lurching, frightened up in bed, some fragmented dream still clinging to him, pulling at him, making him slow and frightened. He whimpers under his breath and pulls at clinging bonds in the back of his hand that sting and make him bleed fat drops of red across the white sheets. He can't remember why he's afraid, but it's ceased to matter, he is, and there's no one to help him, no one to run to. His feet are on the floor and he stumbles, trying to get untangled from the sheets.
He thinks he might know them....but he's not sure, and they begin to waver and wobble as well, so he just closes his eyes and sighs.
He must've dropped off, because it's dark when he opens his eyes again, lurching, frightened up in bed, some fragmented dream still clinging to him, pulling at him, making him slow and frightened. He whimpers under his breath and pulls at clinging bonds in the back of his hand that sting and make him bleed fat drops of red across the white sheets. He can't remember why he's afraid, but it's ceased to matter, he is, and there's no one to help him, no one to run to. His feet are on the floor and he stumbles, trying to get untangled from the sheets.