Thomas slowly opened his eyes and blinked hard a few times to the bright light that welcomed him back to the real world, the one outside his own mind. He felt dizzy, an odd kind of dizzy, one that resembled the unpleasantwoozy feeling that hits right after being punched in the head real hard with something pointy. Thomas could feel his thoughts jumping out of his skull in a mixture of confusion and pure panic, he could see them running all around the room, tearing everything apart.
Thomas wished he could do the same, he wished the bright light could stop blinding him, and that his head could just slow down and quit the trying-to-kill-him-part.
All he managed was to ball his hands into fists and push them into his eyes, rubbing not so gently, trying to punch some sense into his own body. Where was he?
When Thomas finally lowered his hands back to the mattress underneath him, the light had stopped being so blinding, and he could finally begin to make some sense of this weird situation.
He was clearly lying in a bed, he couldn't argue on that one. Moving his head only slightly, and terribly carefully, he took in the west side of the room, which turned out to be quite small. The walls were painted in a light green color, making him feel as if the one decorating this room wanted its inhabitants to feel as if being in a calm and light forest instead of in an actual room. The furniture was neatly placed along three of the walls around the bed Thomas was now resting in and was, along with both the ceiling and the floor, painted white. Thomas found the source of the bright light on the opposite wall, the east one. There was a huge window, swallowing most of the short wall, letting a whole lot of sunlight into the room.
There was a person standing in front of the window, clearly looking right at him. With the sunlight shining in behind the person, it looked more like a huge shadow than an actual human being. Judging by what Thomas tired eyes could pick up, he determined that the shadow was in fact a man, a huge man in all ways possible.
He was tall, the tallest man Thomas had ever seen, and also the broadest. His chest seemed to stretch out forever, accompanied by muscular shoulders and a thick throat. His whole body screamed of order and discipline, clearly something military. As Thomas watched, the man started walking towards him, quickly deleting the small amount of steps that had been present between them. The man looked even more terrifying up close, where Thomas could see every deep line in his scarred and broad face, see the popping veins in his thick arms.
"Thomas," he said, his voice being all dark and serious. He showed no emotion what so ever, his voice being flat and his body still. Thomas himself felt like creeping right out of his own skin, every inch of his body was itching with a strange sensation, one that he definitely didn't like. The man seemed to be waiting for a response, but all Thomas could bring himself to do was nod. So he did, which didn't seem to please the man. Well, he didn't seem to disapprove of it either. "Age sixteen. Breaking and entering, abuse, you tried to kill your stepdad, is that right, Thomas?" The man had a strange tone of amusement hiding in his hard and serious voice, and Thomas couldn't understand why. Not that he could do much of anything for the moment, his head was spinning in such speed that he strongly felt of vomiting.
The man had not yet managed to tare his eyes from Thomas's own, a hard glace with no sign of emotion, neither disapproval nor liking could be determined from his voice. Thomas felt utterly confused, the words had started a slow process inside his throbbing head, one that was now speeding. Memories connected to the words he had just heard began swimming up towards the point in his brain where they could be grasped and closely examined, Thomas tried reaching after them to see if what this man was saying were actually true. He ignored the screaming in his gut as he cached the first memory, this one consisting of only a few words connected with a burning rage that surprised him deeply. Boy broke into stepdad's house with baseball bat, words coming from a magazine.
She had sent him away.
"Where am I?" Thomas finally said, after what appeared to be a long moment of silence. The man still hadn't looked away and Thomas sincerely hoped that he couldn't see how much the boy's body was trembling with fear and confusion.
"Wicked," the voice was still as unrevealing as before, which started to annoy Thomas. "A school for troubled youngsters like yourself." The man turned his back and headed for the door, not giving Thomas a chance to ask about the upsetting and weird name of the school. "You'll meet the others soon, I'll send Alby to pick you up and give you a tour," he paused in the doorway and turned, as if he wanted to look at Thomas one last time before he disappeared. "Thomas, this is your new home. Don't fuck this up." The words were meant to be encouraging, but all Thomas felt was empty. And scared, utterly terrified to be correct. As the strange man left the room, Thomas let his head fall back on the pillow and allowed his eyes to fall shut. The consistent throbbing in his head led him into a dreamless sleep once again.
This time, he nearly wished he wouldn't wake up.