He sits propped up against the wall in his cell, heavy shackles on his wrists and feet, a muzzle fastened around his face. His muscles are stiff, every part of him seems to ache from his lack of movement and the various bruises that covered his body. He leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the hunger pains in his gut. He sits there, waiting; half in anticipation, and half in dread for what was to come.
He knows that he will be taken to another room shortly, where he'll be fastened to a chair and examined. He will be poked and prodded, scanned, and then injected with something that makes his skin crawl. Afterward they will remove the muzzle from his face, they'll give him water, and he'll be subjected to questions. When the muzzle is back in place he'll be taken roughly back to his cell, with brand new bruises, and a splitting headache.
He goes over the routine in his head, strangely comforted by the fact that he could remember it; that he could at least remember something. He thinks about their questions and wishes he had the answers for them, for himself, but he doesn't. He doesn't know where he is, or why, or even how he received most of his injuries. He feels like he doesn't belong here, that he should be somewhere else, but can't remember where that is. He's sees his three finger hand and green skin and knows he's different, but he can't remember if he's always been that way, or how, or why.
He feels tears sting his eyes and doesn't try to stop them from coming. All this not knowing…its more torture than anything else he'd been subjected to. He can't answer their questions, and they won't answer any of his, and so he has nothing. He wants to give up, but something inside him still hopes; some part of him that feels like he's waiting for…for something or..or Someone?
Yes, someone.
He physically jolts at his sudden certainty, grasping the thought and holding onto it with all his might.
He is waiting for someone to come.
At this small but amazing revelation, he turns his weary eyes towards the door, as if him acknowledging that someone was coming for him would suddenly bring them forth. After a moment he realizes his own foolishness and adverts his eyes to the floor, his mind thinking rationally again.
If someone was coming for him…if they cared for him..then why hadn't they gotten him out by now? He was sure that he'd been in this horrible place for far longer than he even remembers.
Where were they?
His heart aches with a sudden pain that's hard for him to identify. He feels as though he's been abandoned. His head hurts, and he realizes that he's crying again; he doesn't think it's something he does very often, but he's not sure.
He doesn't remember.
With a deep sigh he closes his eyes, wishing he could recall who it was that he's waiting for, who it was that he suddenly and fiercely believed would rescue him. As he surrenders himself to sleep, he can't help but wonder sadly...if they've forgotten about him too.
Anyone know who this turtle is?