Puppet [LGBT - POLY - Complete - Edited]

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Varian woke with his head pounding.

He sat up in bed, fingers pressed to his temples. His bleary eyes wandered around the room. It looked different. He couldn't place the difference as his eyes adjusted.

Then it clicked.

He didn't know where he was.

The room was plain in color—a grayish white—and furniture. There was just the bed he currently lied in, a dark wood desk, and a matching chair. It was dark except for the minimal light coming through the window on the left of the bed.

Iron bars blocked entry from either side of the opening. The shadows were cast onto the hardwood floor. Dark lines that stretched out toward the other wall like claws.

He heart thudded against his chest. He had no idea how he'd gotten here or who had brought him.

He pulled the thick blanket up to his chin. His teeth chattered. He could barely hear it over the loud thumping of his heart in his ears. His feet were cold, but he was too numb to do anything about it. It was getting hard to breathe. He gasped for a breath, but it was like sucking through a thin straw.

Tears fell from his eyes, without warning and slid down his cheeks. The bed and the room were foreign entities. Strangers that surrounded him. The fear was a natural response to any human thrust into an unknown place. He had no clue as to whom or what was outside of this room.

His head was throbbing. It wasn't the headache this time. It was a spot on the back of his head. Had he been hit over the head?

He couldn't remember much. He think he remembered camping. He'd been on a camping trip with Hazel and...

His friends. Mary, Kacey, and Padriac. They'd all been together. That was the last thing he remembered.

Had he been kidnapped? Was he drugged or some other crazy assumption? It didn't seem all that far fetched when there were freaking metal bars on the window.

He couldn't be sure about any of those ideas. He couldn't even remember what day it was or what he'd eaten the day before. His memories were frozen on just an idea. He could picture his life before. His friends and family. The idea that he was going to go camping that weekend. They were burned in his mind so clearly and yet they seemed distorted to the point of no recognition.

Stay calm. You'll figure this mess out. Don't worry.

The words were rushed and frantic. Of course he wasn't going to calm down that easily. Freaking out was one of the simplest things to do in a situation like this. Nothing could get better. Things could only get worse.

Minutes passed and he tried to think logically.

Maybe it was a dream. Maybe if he lied back down, relaxed his mind, he would wake up and be in his own room. He would wake to his family waiting for him to join breakfast with them. He'd call Hazel and they'd meet up. Or he'd hang out with his friends.

They would go on that camping trip.

He tried and it didn't work.

He tried thinking about his family, his friends, anything that would ease his heartbeat and keep his hands from shaking so much. Nothing happened.

The worst thought came to mind. Maybe he wasn't going to make it out. He knew he shouldn't be thinking that way, but it was hard not to. The gray walls and the scratchy bed ate at his mind and all he could think about was how the person who had put him in here was going to come back.