What was Lost and Found in the Fire

Ch. 33 Back into the Abyss

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Sang's POV

Location: Bureau of Investigation, Sacramento

Date: November 1st, Morning

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"No." Detective Furcif denies my request with smug satisfaction. He walks out without another word, leaving me to stare at the closed door.

My half-made plans fizzle. I hadn't expected him to say no, especially considering it's my right to have one phone call... and now I don't know what to do. It occurs to me in that moment that I've never been this alone...not that I can remember much from before all of this nightmare started but still...

I've always had someone around. It's not always been good company, but I haven't ever been truly as alone as I am right now.

I take a harsh breath as the situation I've got myself into sinks in. How did this happen?

How did they get those pictures? That video? I don't even remember photo's being taken.

I feel myself shrink into myself at the thought of those photos. The memories swarm me, dragging me into the darkness I've known nearly all my conscious life.

 I didn't know they had been recording my sessions in the devil's quarters. I hadn't been there very often, it had been a job I had been asked to do very sparingly. I didn't know they were recording me. I didn't know.

Why won't the people here let me call anyone? I should have demanded a lawyer while so many of those people were in here. I recognize now that they should have at least read me my rights. They can't keep me here like this.

Something is wrong. My heart is pounding so hard it's the only thing I can hear. I start to shake hard, almost biting my tongue as my whole body starts to convulse with shivers. My airway starts to tighten, and I panic.

I can't breathe. I try to take a breath, and while I feel the burn in my lungs, the air gets stuck somewhere in my throat. I choke, and lift my hand to clutch at my chest. Air falls from my lips, but it feels as if air refuses to fill my lungs.

Several things happen at once.

I silently cry out as I start to burn from the inside. My chest tightens to the point that I instinctively try to curl up into myself but I'm not able to with the way the table and the restraints are positioned. I feel out of my head and I have a brief moment of clarity. I'm having a panic attack. It was too much.

I start to heave air. My throat tightens to the point that I have to claw at it in an attempt to wrench apart my skin, to make myself a new breathing hole. I have a word for what's happening: hyperventilating. In a daze of quick exhalations, I don't even acknowledge the shifting of the air around me. I don't hear the door open, but I feel it.

A voice fills the air but I can't separate the words enough to make sense of their meaning. Blood rushes to my head, drowning out all sound and thought.

Hands grab mine, pulling them away from my throat. I jerk away from them but the person is stronger than I am and I find it impossible to escape their grasp.

I try to tell them to let go, but all that comes out is the heaving gasps of my frenzied state.

The hands bring me to a face, but tears obscure my vision. Hands tighten and one falls away, only to come back and smack me lightly against my cheek.

That only makes me jerk my head away. Don't, I want to tell them. I can't breath.

I start to go fuzzy at the edges of my consciousness.