Quote:
[It was happening again. Stunned by the slam into the wall, and then back on the cold, hard floor, he could feel her weight on top of him, crushing his chest. Her wet, rancid breath steamed onto his face as teeth, sharp and vicious, closed around his head….]
Steve jolted awake. He glanced wearily at the clock beside him. 5:30. He wasn’t supposed to start work until 8. Regardless, though, he still fumbled out of bed and over to the bathroom, practically tripping over Pie in the process.
Bathrobe on, over the clothes he had slept in, the lounge was his next destination. He sat at a table, bowl of cold cereal in front of him, while the TV, mounted on brackets up the wall, flashed out early morning cartoons on low. The cereal was okay. Could have been better. Listlessly, he stared at the TV.
[Distantly, the alarms blared and blared their call. His vision was red, and dim, and his head slowly rocked back and forth, but he couldn’t make sense of anything. Blinking red emergency lights flashed across his body. He could hear series of dull thuds in the distance, but those sirens, the sirens were splitting his head apart….]
Cartoon fire engines raced across the screen. Weeeeeewooooooo Weeeeeeeeewooooooooooo. The volume seemed louder now. “Steve, you okay?”
“..uh….?” He snapped up, his head shaking the bowl next to him Blinking, the lights seemed brighter than they were before. The cereal was too soggy to eat. “You okay?” The voice repeated again. He couldn’t remember who it was. “Uh, oh, yea. I’m fine,” murmuring, he got up, dumped out the bowl, and went back to his room.
6:20
There wasn’t much to do right now, so he went back to the bathroom to get a shower.
[He felt like he was moving, fast, bumping and jolting. It felt like a hospital gurney. And there was something on his head, heavy. Everything felt heavy. His head lolled, and a voice materialized somewhere along side him. “Steve?! Can you hear me? Steve, you’re at the hospital; you’ve been mauled. Can you believe it? The project was a success, Steve! The project was a succ-“]
BAM.
Pie’s head slammed into the shower door, his pinpoint eyes shining eerily through the fog. As soon as Steve lifted a hand to wipe a window through, the layhr slobbered the spot unseeable again. The shower was still blasting, but it was getting cold. Stiffly, he turned it off, groped around for a towel, and kicked Pie out of the bathroom so he could dry off. Wiping the fog off again, this time in the mirror, he squinted at his own face. The scars were still there. They’d always be there.
7:40
Now he had to hurry or risk being late. Hopefully the lab coat would cover how unkempt the rest of his clothes were looking. In front of another mirror, he adjusted his tie, adjusted his shirt, adjusted his glasses, all the while his eyes traveling up to the scars over his face. Well, maybe someone would think they were…heroic. With one final ruffle of his hair (thank goodness the bites there hadn’t been bad enough that his hair wouldn’t grow back), he swept out the door, ushering Pie out there with him.
8:00
Time for work.
Steve jolted awake. He glanced wearily at the clock beside him. 5:30. He wasn’t supposed to start work until 8. Regardless, though, he still fumbled out of bed and over to the bathroom, practically tripping over Pie in the process.
Bathrobe on, over the clothes he had slept in, the lounge was his next destination. He sat at a table, bowl of cold cereal in front of him, while the TV, mounted on brackets up the wall, flashed out early morning cartoons on low. The cereal was okay. Could have been better. Listlessly, he stared at the TV.
[Distantly, the alarms blared and blared their call. His vision was red, and dim, and his head slowly rocked back and forth, but he couldn’t make sense of anything. Blinking red emergency lights flashed across his body. He could hear series of dull thuds in the distance, but those sirens, the sirens were splitting his head apart….]
Cartoon fire engines raced across the screen. Weeeeeewooooooo Weeeeeeeeewooooooooooo. The volume seemed louder now. “Steve, you okay?”
“..uh….?” He snapped up, his head shaking the bowl next to him Blinking, the lights seemed brighter than they were before. The cereal was too soggy to eat. “You okay?” The voice repeated again. He couldn’t remember who it was. “Uh, oh, yea. I’m fine,” murmuring, he got up, dumped out the bowl, and went back to his room.
6:20
There wasn’t much to do right now, so he went back to the bathroom to get a shower.
[He felt like he was moving, fast, bumping and jolting. It felt like a hospital gurney. And there was something on his head, heavy. Everything felt heavy. His head lolled, and a voice materialized somewhere along side him. “Steve?! Can you hear me? Steve, you’re at the hospital; you’ve been mauled. Can you believe it? The project was a success, Steve! The project was a succ-“]
BAM.
Pie’s head slammed into the shower door, his pinpoint eyes shining eerily through the fog. As soon as Steve lifted a hand to wipe a window through, the layhr slobbered the spot unseeable again. The shower was still blasting, but it was getting cold. Stiffly, he turned it off, groped around for a towel, and kicked Pie out of the bathroom so he could dry off. Wiping the fog off again, this time in the mirror, he squinted at his own face. The scars were still there. They’d always be there.
7:40
Now he had to hurry or risk being late. Hopefully the lab coat would cover how unkempt the rest of his clothes were looking. In front of another mirror, he adjusted his tie, adjusted his shirt, adjusted his glasses, all the while his eyes traveling up to the scars over his face. Well, maybe someone would think they were…heroic. With one final ruffle of his hair (thank goodness the bites there hadn’t been bad enough that his hair wouldn’t grow back), he swept out the door, ushering Pie out there with him.
8:00
Time for work.
