When he awoke the second time it felt as if he had a particularly bad hangover, which was an improvement to the pain he had felt earlier. With this relief came more awareness than before, and with a small start he realized a blanket was carefully placed across his shoulders. Did Loviatar...?
No, that wouldn't make any sense. She had stated before that she enjoyed his suffering, so why would she give him this luxury? Then again, his holding cell wasn't necessarily uncomfortable. It was underground, most likely a basement, and furnished with a small linen couch, a table with three chair, and a bed in the far right corner. They all had the same pristine white color that gave the room a hospital feel, but the grimy light fixture gave the room an eerie edge.
Stuck to the bed was a sticky note, peeling it off he read it quickly,
"My dear thunder-storm,
I'll let you live if you do what you're supposed to do...
Play your role correctly and you can see your friend again.
With love,
Loviatar"
Diagonal from him was a stairwell, and underneath it was a door that lightning assumed went to a bathroom. There was no toilet in the main room, so he hoped that's what it was. There's not much else it could be.
Except maybe a dungeon.
He didn't really want to think about that.
ignoring the pulsing pain in his head, he got to his feet and lightly tread across the carpet to investigate the door. Logically he knew it was most likely a bathroom, but his imagination got the best of him and he slowly approached the door. Silently he twisted the knob and peaked in...
...and it was a bathroom.
How anticlimactic, he thought, deciding to go ahead and investigate the tiny room. Inside was a simple shower, toilet, dresser, hamper, and sink. He didn't expect much, so this seemed better than nothing. Stepping across the tile, he glanced at himself in the mirror and froze. Slowly he brough his hand up to touch the dried blood on his forehead, before bringing it down to touch the purple bags under his eyes, then the swollen split lip caused by the earlier make out session.
he hadn't even realized she had split it.
he also took a moment to run his finger through his drastically shorter hair. Still enough to grab and pull, but not long enough to tie in a pony tail. The redness of his hair mingled with the blood brought out the stark paleness of his skin, white enough to concern him. How much blood had he lost? There as no pool in the other room, so she must have brought him inside while he was still bleeding and done all the little changes she wanted to before placing him in her little Barbie dream house?
How long had he been unconscious? She had been waiting for him to wake, so it must not have been long. A day at the most, he decided, before noticing the hinges on the mirror. Swinging it open he found a new in-the-package toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste, along with floss and small containers of shampoo and conditioner. A Small note was duct taped inside.
"Dear bolt of electricity,
There's a medical kit in the dresser! Hope your teeth are sharp, wouldn't want to give you any scissors!
with love,
Loviatar"
He was confused.
The whole situation confused him, and his headache didn't help in the slightest.
Placing the items back in their respective place he turned towards the dresser and pulled open the doors. Inside were a pile of red towels, stacked high and all shoved to the right side, on the left were pile upon pile of the same out fit he was already wearing. No deviations from the color red.
He had been correct in his assumption of hospital scrubs, chosen most likely because of their flimsy material. She wanted him to be cold, but she had given her a blanket. Her bipolar moods were more confusing than anything. Pulling oped the top drawer he found what he was looking for and grinned lightly. Gently pulling out the kit he opened it to reveal several antiseptic wipes and gauze, along with gloves, band aids, and medical tape.
Closing the lid and placing it back in the drawer he eyed the shower warily. It would be nice to get the grime and blood from his skin, but he wouldn't want someone barging in or video taping him.
Sighing softly he knew taking a shower was the best course of action. If his head wound was as bad as the blood-loss suggested, he needed to get it cleaned and wrapped up before it could get infected. Stripping quickly he grabbed the hair care products and stepped beneath the water, the warmth instantly relaxed his stiffed muscled and eased the throbbing in his head, and he dreaded stepping from out from beneath the waters force because he knew deep down he would be thrust back into the harsh reality of where he was.
Never the less, he stopped the water and dressed quickly before tending to the wound, wincing every time he applied antiseptic. Biting down on the gauze to split it apart, he watched silently as it rolled underneath the sink, catching bacteria as it did so. sighing gently he tucked the excess gauze underneath his wrap and got on his knees to retrieve the run-away bandaging. As he pulled the roll into his hand, he spotted it.
The bloody piece of paper stuck to the bottom of the sink by duct tape.
Peeling it away from it place he read the simple note and his heart constricted.
He wasn't going to get out of this alive.
He never was.