A beeping noise.
That was all he had heard for a very long time.
He didn't know how long, exactly.
But he knew it was beeping.
He constantly wondered when he was going to fully wake up. He knew he was awake, but all he could see was the dark chasm that he was stuck in.
Only that chasm, and nothing more.
He didn't know how long it was beeping until it started getting louder one day. He knew he furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance; he could feel them move; but he still didn't wake from his long slumber. Sleeping...Sleeping...Sleeping.
But he only escaped this long, dreamless sleep was when it started literally shrieking in his ears.
He woke with a start, shooting bolt upright with his eyes wide in surprise and slight fear. It was only after a few minutes before his surroundings sunk in. He was in a hospital bed, only his right hand was chained to one of the posts. There was a vitals monitor attached to his left arm. So that's what had woken him. The room he was in was small and white, only decorated with a mirror, a sink and a toilet. There was no sign of any other life.
Just him.
His right shoulder burned with agony when he tried to get up. Wincing only slightly, he used his other hand to support himself as he placed his feet on the ground and stood up for the first time in about a month. The sky blue pants of the flannel pajamas he donned dragged against the floor as he shuffled to the mirror, dragging the stupid monitor with him. The mirror showed a boy; a boy around 14 years old. He had a snowy white mop of spiky hair on his head. Tan skin, bright scarlet eyes and shark-like teeth complete the look. The was a long line of perfect stitches going from the far right side of his forehead to his right eyebrow. He decided he liked the boy in the mirror. He was cool, especially when he showed of those rows of shark-like teeth.
But he needed a name for that boy; He needed a name for himself.
He struggled to remember. The harder he tried, the more it hurt.
Growling angrily, he trudged back to the bed and buried himself within the warm sheets. As he tried to remember anything about himself, anything at all, he realized.
He had no idea who he was.
Or where he was.
Or how he ended up in this lonesome white room.
Who am I, he asked himself.
But there was no answer.
Instead of focusing upon the fact that he didn't know who he was, he turned his attention to the dull pain in his right shoulder. He slowly unbuttoned the first button, and shrugged off the right sleeve.
There was a barcode there.
A barcode that was sewn into his right shoulder.
It was still bleeding a little, and it had stained the right shoulder piece of his flannel pajamas it's sickly crimson shade. He squinted at it, hoping to find some sort of an answer to his questions. There was three letters and three numbers on the barcode.
Boy 394.
What kind of a name is Boy 394? He thought.
He shrugged gently as to not irritate the bleeding, barcoded shoulder.
It would have to do.