Lochlann woke up gasping and clawing at the air. He was a frenzy of desperate movement, writhing in the bed, trying to untangle himself from the monsters holding him back.
But it didn't matter. He couldn't fight it. Lochlann sunk back down into the darkness.
When he woke up again, Lochlann wasn't screaming. The room was dark, the only light being the faint spill over from the small hallway window. He was in a room, one that he recognized and loathed with every irregular heartbeat, but he couldn't remember how he got here, or where he was, or why he hurt so damn badly.
He swallowed and gripped the side of the bed, trying to force himself into a sitting position, but a jolt of pain lanced through him and forced him onto his back. He was covered in a cold sweat and his hands were shaking. He was too hot and too cold. He wanted to scream and run, but he wanted to fall back into unconsciousness. He hated these conflicting feelings.
He tried again to sit up, but again he failed, and now Lochlann was forced to lay still even longer, fighting with his body to try and tame it into submission.
He didn't know where he was. He didn't know how he got here. He didn't know he was so painfully afraid. He barely even knew who he was.
At least he was alone.
At least, that's what Lochlann thought until he heard someone clear their throat.
His eyes searched the dark room and tried to make out the figure in the shadows. He could barely focus, and the fever that was ravishing him made everything blurry. Still, he frowned, and somehow Lochlann managed to wrestle two words out of his mouth, two words that he understood more than anything else right now.
"It's you."
But it didn't matter. He couldn't fight it. Lochlann sunk back down into the darkness.
When he woke up again, Lochlann wasn't screaming. The room was dark, the only light being the faint spill over from the small hallway window. He was in a room, one that he recognized and loathed with every irregular heartbeat, but he couldn't remember how he got here, or where he was, or why he hurt so damn badly.
He swallowed and gripped the side of the bed, trying to force himself into a sitting position, but a jolt of pain lanced through him and forced him onto his back. He was covered in a cold sweat and his hands were shaking. He was too hot and too cold. He wanted to scream and run, but he wanted to fall back into unconsciousness. He hated these conflicting feelings.
He tried again to sit up, but again he failed, and now Lochlann was forced to lay still even longer, fighting with his body to try and tame it into submission.
He didn't know where he was. He didn't know how he got here. He didn't know he was so painfully afraid. He barely even knew who he was.
At least he was alone.
At least, that's what Lochlann thought until he heard someone clear their throat.
His eyes searched the dark room and tried to make out the figure in the shadows. He could barely focus, and the fever that was ravishing him made everything blurry. Still, he frowned, and somehow Lochlann managed to wrestle two words out of his mouth, two words that he understood more than anything else right now.
"It's you."