The was red. So much red, so much! Now, nothing was white. Nothing was pure. Not in this room. Or was white impure now? Arthur didn't understand. There was this feeling. This feeling of something. Something different, but Arthur couldn't tell whether it was nice or not. Was it good? Was it bad? His head wasn't telling him; lying to him, perhaps. The crimson specks and dots that littered the corridor were nothing compared to this. The room was red, red was the room, everything was red, red was everything!
Arthur was making noises. Loud, harsh noises and they were torn from his throat. He didn't speak, but his mouth still opened and his head was still thrown back by the feeling that he knew was there, he just couldn't determine it. Slowly, the man with the scarf came back into vision and Arthur pulled at different parts of his body - his arms, his wrists, his legs and his ankles, they were all stuck and trapped and unmoving. Something was coming back to him, slowly, rejoining him, and he welcomed it.
His emerald eyes shot open as wide as they could and he was hit with a force he couldn't understand, but that didn't matter. His thoughts, his senses, his sanity - they were all coming back to him in waves! In floods! He could feel again, he could touch, but still the red remained and still all he could see was crimson. The scarfed man had left - he left without a word. Arthur was still trapped, and now, he felt it too.
He made the same odd noises again as he did earlier, but this time he identified them as screams. Screams of complete and utter terror, and of pain. That's what the feeling was. Pain.
Red surrounded him and now, from what he could see and what he could feel, red covered him. Red covered him, he covered red; he was red, until red faded, and red then became black.