Kings // c. griffin

Twenty Five

Isaac felt like he was floating. It was a strange sensation; he could feel something soft pressed into his back yet he didn't feel completely there, and the room felt like it was swirling around him, almost as if he were back in space, outside with no gravity. His arms felt heavy and useless at his sides almost as if he weren't supposed to be able to move them. He tested them out and realized with great relief that he could, in fact, move his limbs.

His eyes were heavy and he felt almost drugged when they were closed, and happier. But he knew he needed to wake up, and so the first thing he did as he began to come back to his senses was force his eyelids open. He cringed visibly as he was met with a shining light, his surroundings being unbearably bright so that it hurt to look at it without squinting. Isaac groaned and dragged his arm up so that it rested on his forehead, just above his eyes, blocking out some of the bright light.

Using his other arm, he slid it back and planted his hand against the soft fabric that was underneath him, splaying his fingers out so that he could push himself forwards into a sitting position without wobbling or falling sideways, which he figured that at this point collapsing was the most appealing option. He was still so tired, like he was in a dream, not quite ready to be woken up but forcing himself to do so.

As soon as he was sat up his scooted back so that his back was pressed against a wall and, with his fingers blocking the light from above, looked around the room. It was pristine and everything was neatly arranged to the point of perfection. And everything was white; from the floors and walls and ceiling to the sheets of the bed he way laying in and the stand to his right. There was a cup on the stand of what looked to be water, and upon sighting it Isaac realized just how thirsty he was. But he refused to drink it, because he didn't know anything about the situation. It could be poisoned.

Looking down, Isaac noticed that not only was the room he was in spotless and white, but so were his clothes. While he was knocked out, somebody had changed his clothes to a plain white shirt and a pair of loose fitting, cotton shorts that ended just below his knees. Tugging the thin blanket away from his body, he noticed that his feet were bare. He was also cleaner than he'd seen himself in a long while. His skin was practically shining and it was clear that he'd been washed up. He ran a hand through his curls tentatively and noticed that they were sleek and bouncy, instead of the dirt-caked greasy mess that they had become to represent. His jawline was smooth and the small amount of hair that had been growing there had been shaved away.

Isaac ran his hands over his face with a sigh, and finally he noticed that there was a tube coming from his arm, putting something into his bloodstream from a bag that hung on a stand a few inches away from the bed, a clear substance inside of the packet. Immediately thinking the worst, Isaac took the tube in between his middle and index finger, carefully pulling it out of his arm. The spurt of pain that came from the spot as blood began to run down his arm made him hiss and he leaned down to rip of a strip of his shirt, wrapping the scrap of cloth around the cut the I.V. had made and tying it there in hopes to stop the bleeding. The place where it had been connected to him still stung and Isaac tried to ignore it, instead turning in his place on the bed so that his feet hung over the side. His legs were long and his toes were brushing against the ground, which was cold and hard.

With a grimace, he stood from the bed, jumping as a shiver ran up his spine from the coldness of the linoleum flooring. His bare feet slapped against the material as he padded across the room. There was a door in the middle of the wall that was directly across from the bed, and there was a circular window in the center of the door, the center of it about five feet off of the ground. He walked over to it and, being as awkwardly as he was, had to bend over so he could see through the window properly. Peering through the window, he was a hallway, just as white and clean as the room he was currently in. And on the other side of the hallway, just a few inches to the left, was another door, looking eerily similar to the door he was looking through at the moment.