Passive Hatred

The lab (2)

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Alex's eyes slowly opened, his head pounding as he blinked away the blur in his vision. The room was dim, with strange machines surrounding him, all beeping and humming quietly. He tried to sit up, but his arms wouldn't move. That's when he noticed—he was strapped down.

His heart raced. "What's going on?" he muttered voice hourse, tugging at the restraints. The cold metal held firm. His eyes darted around the room. He was alone, wires and tubes connecting him to a machine hovering above his chest. A soft light from the screen next to him flashed words he didn't understand.

"Where am I?" Panic started to creep in. He remembered Grillby's, the bar... then the fight with the tendrils. After that, everything was a blank.

He tried pulling at the restraints again, but it was no use. He glanced down at his hands and saw his hands turning into the same colur his tendrill were, reacting to his fear. His heart sank. "I lost control again... didn't I?" he whispered to himself, dread filling his chest.

The machine above him gave a soft hum, and Alex felt a strange tingling sensation in his chest. It wasn't painful, but it felt like the machine was looking deeper, like it was scanning something inside him. His breathing quickened. What were they trying to find?

"I've got to get out of here," he muttered, tugging harder at the straps. But they wouldn't budge.

He stared at the machine, unsure of what it was doing to him, but he had a feeling it was something he didn't want to find out. He closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart. "No tendrils," he whispered to himself. "Not again. I can't lose control."

But as the minutes passed, the fear and uncertainty grew, and his fingertips twitched more violently, slowly turning into its more whip-like form

As Alex lay there, heart pounding, his mind raced for a way out. His hands, still restrained, twitched as the tendrils at his fingertips curled and pulsed in response to his growing anxiety. That's when it hit him—a desperate idea.

"If I can shift my hands into a  tendrils... maybe, just maybe, I can slip out of these restraints," he thought, staring at his bound wrists. The idea seemed risky, but it was the only thing he had.

He took a deep breath, trying to focus. He had to control it, to summon just enough of the tendrils without losing control entirely. "Come on," he whispered to himself, concentrating hard.

Slowly, he felt the familiar sensation of his hands transforming, the solid shape of his fingers giving way to dark, whip-like tendrils. He winced as they stretched and squirmed, thinner and more flexible than before. Carefully, he tried to guide them, imagining them slipping free through the small gap between the restraints and his wrists.

At first, it didn't seem to work. The tendrils twitched uncontrollably, smacking against the metal in a panic. But Alex clenched his jaw, focusing even harder, breathing deeply to stay calm. Slowly, the tendrils began to slide.

One hand slipped through. Then the other. His heart raced with relief as his wrists were free. He sat up quickly, glancing at the machine still scanning his chest. Without wasting a second, he yanked off the remaining wires and tubes, trying to quiet the rising panic in his mind.

"I'm out," he muttered, flexing his now normal hands. For a moment, he couldn't believe it worked. But there was no time to dwell on it. He had to get out of the lab before anyone returned and saw what he had done.

Alex rubbed his wrists, still feeling the ghostly sensation of the tendrils. His breathing slowed as he scanned the room around him. The lab was cold, and bathed in a pale green light. Machines whirred softly in the background, humming with energy. The room wasn't large, but it was packed with equipment—some of it familiar, some of it completely alien to him.

Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with notebooks, strange devices, and small jars filled with things he didn't want to think about. There was a table nearby, covered in scattered papers, diagrams of what looked like different types of souls.

 His stomach twisted when he saw a sketch that eerily resembled his own—though it wasn't shaped like the hearts he had seen before.

The centerpiece of the room was the large machine he had just pulled himself free from. Wires dangled loosely from where he'd been connected. It hummed quietly, the screen still displaying a few readouts in a language he didn't understand.

It was clear this wasn't just a hospital. This was a research lab. And whoever was studying him had clearly been focused on his soul.

Alex swallowed hard, his eyes darting toward the door. He needed to leave, but first, he had to figure out exactly where he was. Every instinct screamed at him to get out as fast as possible, but his curiosity clawed at him. What did they know about him? What did they know that he didnt?

Step step step

As Alex stood frozen, a faint sound echoed through the sterile room—a set of footsteps approaching from the hallway. His heart raced, panic surging through him. Without thinking, he reacted on pure instinct. His tendrils shot out silently, wrapping around a nearby ceiling pipe. In one swift motion, he hoisted himself upward, clinging to the pipe with a strength he didn't know he had.

HolyshitwhatdoIdo-

He pressed his back against the cold ceiling, trying to steady his breath. The room felt even smaller now as he clung above, hidden in the shadows. His pulse thundered in his ears as the door clicked open.

Whoever was coming in didn't seem to notice anything out of place at first. Alex's grip tightened, his muscles tensed as he watched from above, hoping they wouldn't look up. He wasn't sure what he would do if they did.

He needed to leave but if they now know what his soul looked like would they even let him.

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