AN: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far!
Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider
Whit Jacket
Alex woke up for the second time in twenty four hours and had to shake his head in an attempt to get rid of the fuzzy-ness that was preventing him from thinking cleary.
He tried to move his arms so he could push himself into a sitting position but he couldn't. His arms were stuck.
"Wha...?" He blinked and opened his eyes, thinking in hindsight that he should have done so in the first place.
He had to close them again quickly as he was blinded.
Disgustingly bright lights and white rooms should never mix when you feel hung over.
Wait... why did he feel hung over?
Oh yeah... bloody doctor, stupid nurse.
He rolled over onto his back and eased his eyes open.
Looking down to try and see what was holding his arms captive he gasped.
"Shit no!" He was wearing a white jacket, a sickeningly familiar white jacket.
"Not again." He moaned.
He could already feel himself panicking. He didn't do well when he couldn't move. He felt trapped. Uneasy. Flickers of memories from the various times he had been held against his will started forming.
"Please... please let me go..." His voice was dry, cracking. He hadn't talked properly since his first week inside.
He screamed, cursed, spat at people... but never talked. What if he let something slip? They'd start to pity him... feel sorry for him.
"Please..." He struggled desperately, but had to give up before too long. He wasn't strong enough. It was hopeless.
Hopeless.
He turned back over and tried getting to his feet. But just as he got to his knees he heard a click. Instinct reared and he ducked, performing a strange cammando roll.
But then he realised, as the white once again turned black, that they were just shutting off the light.
He lay, curled up in a ball, the memories coming back in the dark. Their voices swirling around him.
Their ghosts.
"LET ME OUT!" He screamed...
AN: Thanks for reading! : )
