The light nearly blinded Tom as he blinked his eyes open. When did the cell light turn on?

He pushed himself up in the corner, having slowly slid down while he slept.

Tom was so tired. He was tired of existing. His life was pointless to begin with. Now he was nothing. Where was Tord? Weren't they friends? Didn't friends check on friends?

How long has it even been? Tom thought, having lost track of time a while ago. His stomach rumbled loudly, begging for food. He glanced across the room, towards the untouched tray of food.

He wasn't hungry.

He didn't want to be hungry. And yet, the painful pang of hunger remained where it was.

Where was Tord? Tom missed his friends. He missed everyone. Why hadn't Tord come back yet? Had something happened? Did...did he do something? Was that person really a woman?

Was it Tord?

No, it couldn't be Tord. Tord wouldn't do something like that unprovoked. Unless...it was payback for what I did to his face. I didn't even do that! He knows that...right? The thoughts swirled in Tom's head like water going down a drain, mesmerizing, then gone.

The sadness turned to anger, betrayal, fear, a cocktail of emotions that didn't make sense. Growing, evolving, becoming darker and darker, until it was there.

The monster roared.

Angry claws raked the thick cement walls, leaving score marks in their wake. Pent up emotions came spilling out in a torrent of rage. Very quickly, the floor was covered in sharp and crumbling bits of cement, stabbing into the bottom of the monster's - Tom's - feet. He was done.

The emotions had been spilt, and now they coated the walls and floor. Chest heaving with exerted energy, Tom made his way towards the door, his mind intent on one thing.

Tord.

He sized up the door; it was a little small for the size of the monster, but he could fit if he squeezed. Backing up, backing up , backing up, and speed forward fast then

slam

crack

squeeeeek

crash

It was that easy? Did no one hear that? That seemed impossible.

Was it? Was he free? Timidly, he placed one foot in front of another, squeezing through the people sized doorway and into the viewing room. The tiled floor was cold under his feet, and the dribble of dark purple blood leaking from the bottom of his feet made a footprint on the floor. He sniffed gingerly through the various papers on the small table adjacent to the window. Something caught his attention, a whiff of something familiar.

Tord.

Tord must've been here recently, otherwise the scent would've been staler than the bread on the tray in the decimated room behind him. The scent lingered through the air, and out the door that led to the hallway. Tom squeezed through the doorway once more, and began to follow the scent.

Tord smelled like cigar smoke and sparks, like new leather and old books. A twinge of sadness was weaved through the other scents, a sense of something being missing, a hole.

The distance between the cell and Tord's office was lessening by the second, and Tom was making headway. Then a different scent snagged his thoughts. Two scents, really. A scent of cola and kindness, a scent of perfume and joy. One of confusion, one of boredom and fear.

Edd and Matt.

Tom's friends.

He could see them later, now he had to find Tord.

Soon enough, he happened upon a wooden door, with a small engraved nametag on the front.

Dr. Tord Larkson

Head of Biowarfare

The scent was so strong here, it nearly overpowered Tom's nose. Without even thinking about it, his large black claw reached up and turned the door handle, leaving a small smear of blood on it. The door swung open noiselessly, revealing a small figure hunched over a desk. The door hit the wall, making a small thunk noise as the doorstopper bumped into the bottom of the door. The figure popped up and spun around in his seat, eyes widening as they landed on Tom's large silhouette in the doorway.

"Tom?" the small voice questioned.

Slowly, Tom moved forwards, coming to a stop with his head over Tord's shoulder. His rear-end thumped on the ground as he sat down and nuzzled his large head into Tord's shoulder.

Tord hesitantly wrapped his arms around Tom's fluffy neck, slowly sinking in as Tom whimpered over his shoulder. Something warm and slightly wet began to cascade down his back, and it took Tord a little pondering to realize what it was.

Tears.

He was crying.

He then noticed the fur under his hands wasn't soft like normal, but matted and dry. Small clumps were beginning to form under his hands, which had begun to sweat. He pulled his hand away from the embrace to see what was causing Tom's fur to mat, and saw his hand come back a reddish-brown color.

Blood.

Why is there old blood on his fur?! Tord thought frantically. He tried to pull away from the beast, only to have Tom whine loudly and follow Tord. He froze up, not knowing what to do. He stayed frozen for what seemed to be hours, until the quiet sobs coming from Tom subsided, leaving a very heavy monster snoring softly over Tord's shoulder. Shortly, the monster devolved and left a battered and bruised Tom leaning heavily on Tord.

funky

-trashbag