“Do you know why you’re here?” Color was gone from the world. Nothing remained but gray walls and gray tile. The concrete surged in on him with each inhale and swam away with each exhale, pulsing like the inside of a panicked heart. Light rained down from the roof and smeared in his eyes. He blinked the water away, sucking it back down with a shaky breath that stunk of smoke and rust. ...Here? Where was here, anyway? He stopped, knuckles freezing inches from the door. Wait. He didn't need to knock, he realized. It hung open just a crack...a crack just wide enough to render the lock useless. For a while, he simply stood there, staring down the door to room 116. Why would it already be open like that? The dark, silent slit offered no answer. …show more content…
Sixteen. The body had been stabbed sixteen times. Sixteen red rips. Sixteen bloodied slits. The logical part of his mind counted each gash even while the rest of him stopped. Dead. The familiar figure on the kitchen floor was dead. He hadn't even heard the officers coming when they'd tackled him from behind. He hadn't resisted, following along with them like he was following the whims of a dream. His mind lingered there in that room, heavy with shock and the smell of blood, even as his legs had walked him to the police car. Now, he found himself chained to a chair. He looked up at the single lamp above the table. Its electrical hum burned his bleary senses. Too loud. He'd trained his ears to listen for the buzz of electricity, but sometimes, the noise was grating, like a fly he couldn't kill. He let his eyes chase quieter hums around the room. A heater, a PDA in the officer's pocket, one-way speakers, a security lock on the door. Yeah. He could escape whenever he needed to. Slight relief sent the tension out of his muscles, but his stomach only sunk deeper in his gut, twisted in knots. His limbs dangled like rope weighted with lead. He didn't have it in him to make a break for it, not yet. The numbness was starting to wear
After the characters had been “released” from their entrapment, they were dreading the thought of being trapped again. The character’s feeling of entrapment undoubtedly added to the feeling of urgency, panic, and dread in the tone and mood of the novel.
Vance, “Here the victim was tortured for fifty minutes by red-hot irons being thrust against his quivering
But my blissful state completely vanishes as a terrible splintering sound fills the room, prompting me to bolt upright in my bed. And I am dumbstruck by what I find. A piece of the wooden door is now lying battered on the floor and a gaping hole is now visible from the outside of my door. “What the hell are you doing!” I shout at Lillie, who is peering at me through the hole.
Fog clung to the streets suffocating everything in a blanket of grey mist. The streets were dark and damp and the houses were crammed tightly into rows. It was eerily silent. A large black car drove through the fog, disappearing into the distance. The once green grass was crunchy, grey and dead. There were no trees, animals or laughter.
All the room was swimming in moonlight. Everything was different. There were deep shadows and swaths of silver, all mixed, all moving. She arose quietly and tiptoed from the room. She went out into the garden.
As he stared at the ceiling, color returned to his face, numbness replaced with a warm sense of existing, the touch of the cool air against his skin. He looked at his hands. They were calloused and raw, nails gnawed to the quick, fingerprints lost among countless scars and burns. He grimaced. They didn't let him care for his hands, which was silly; he was a musician and he needed them to
The door shook as Aerith attempted to pull it open by the handle, but it remained locked. She let out a sigh and continued down the dim moon-lit hallway. All the doors she had encountered so far were locked tight, and it was getting frustrating. Surely the dining hall and kitchen wouldn't be too far from the foyer.
It took tremendous effort to simply walk a few meters distance, as the mud sucked his feet in almost instantly and let go resentfully with a loud smack. The dark grey sky reflected off the puddles, which trickled into the lower areas. The main feature of this depressing setting was the silent, gigantic house towering over the once beautiful flowers and green lawn. Its windows looked more like depressed eyes and the usually orange walls looked dark and murky. The brick driveway had murky water seeping through the cracks, leading to where the two Mercedes took shelter unsettled by the weather.
The gun was pressed hard against my forehead. I was tied up and couldn’t move. In the corner there was a woman dressed in all black whistling while emptying my belongings looking for something valuable. Too bad she won’t find anything here. It seemed like hours until after the gun was removed, but sadly, the ropes that kept me bound weren’t. Both the man and the woman searched everywhere in my small, cozy one-story home but what they were searching for wasn’t found.
Constricted by ropes, blood streaming down his face, and no recollection of the past we see the protagonist lost and deserted. Blood streaming down his face, weary and confused
as she walked down the empty street. Her wings, usually a mixture of dark brown and dirty blond, were covered in dust and mud. She couldn't wash them herself, she needed someone else to help and ever since she left the flock, she had no one to help clean them. Her flock had kicked her out after she had helped a demon, which was strictly forbidden. She had been on the run ever since then, too scared to show anyone or use her wings. She finally sighed and pulled off her leather jacket, letting her wings stretch out as she walked down the empty road. She smiled slightly and began humming, breaking the deafening silence around her as she thought about where she was going next, her wings stretched out across the road. She continued walking until she saw a bright light and felt the cool metal of a car hit her hip, throwing her off balance and to the concrete as she cried out, landing on her wing and hearing a loud snap. She laid out dazed until she heard a voice above her and a gentle hand nudging her shoulder.
The air that was left in his lungs had fled from his body as he took his last breath. His chest rose and fell for the last time. He was gone. His eyes glazed over and his heart had stopped beating. I closed his eyes. The wounds from the attack were far too big for his fragile body, he couldn’t hold on any longer. He fought so well but even then he wouldn’t have been able to overcome something that was as horrific as this.
“Did you do it!?” I heard my mom scream hysterically at me as I was dragged away. I kept my head down not able to meet my mother's eye. My head was shoved down as I was pushed into a cop car. The lights flashed but it was the siren of the ambulance on opposite side of the road that got to me. I saw defeated paramedics zip up the body bag enclosing the corpse until it could be examined at a morgue.
John: “I got those papers you wanted.” Shere stretches out her hand and John exasperatingly hands her the files.
With pride shining in his eyes, my grandfather came out on the back porch again, resuming his seat to watch the preceedings with a smile. “Welcome to the Pack, grandson, you will make our People proud.”