Fractured- UnOrdinary (Original)

Chapter 40: Terror

A/N: Ok, I lied. We have two more chapters before we get back to the group. BUT, I think you guys will like them. :3

Hope you all enjoy!

Love ya guys! ^-^

-KittCat

*Warning*: This chapter contains, violence, torture, mentions of past trauma and mentions of murder. Viewer discretion is advised please!

Where was he...?

'Why does everything feel hazy...?'

When did he pass out...?

'Why can't I move...?'

Who did this to him?

'Everything hurts...'

What happened?

'Please...I wanna go home...'

There were times where he tried to open his eyes from time to time, attempting to catch a glimpse around him and figure out what was going on.

But his eyelids felt like weights had been attached to them, refusing to budge open no matter how hard he tried.

He couldn't see but while his vision was off limits, he could still hear and smell what was around him.

The sound of something shutting and locking echoed in his ears.

The smell of metal, cleaner and drying copper filled his nose and made him want to hurl.

He felt something latch onto his shoulder and a strained cry was ripped from his throat.

He was only faintly aware of someone forcing his limbs to contort and move in painful and awkward fashions, of someone's hands on his body shifting and positioning him like a ragdoll.

It all hurt...his muscles burned from strain and constantly being coiled up with stress.

The cuts and bruises from his most recent sessions with Keon and Marcella stung with a vengeance and that was nothing to say of his older wounds that had started scarring and scabbing over to varying extents.

His shoulder and leg hurt the most, the slices of pain each time one of the limbs was moved made him want to vomit from the intensity.

There was a persistent ache in his head and ribs that since the day they had plucked him out of the school, hadn't gone away.

Despite their efforts to keep him in a functioning condition, all the wounds from however long it had been had begun to pile up. Whoever had been healing him would only take care of his most major wounds but only enough so he wasn't at risk of dying on them. Everything else was left to heal on its own.

Needless to say, even moving and being moved had become unpleasant, the layering pain leaving him struggling to do anything besides sit or lay there on that damned bed like he had the night they'd come to collect him.

As much as he hated the sh*ty thing, he realized he couldn't keep sleeping on the floor, less he risk infecting some of his wounds.

Being stuck there on that cot without so much as the ability to move somewhere else made him feel even more trapped than he was.