The Day-ze before Bytes

Dreams of Forgotten Memories

Bytes with his goggles/half-mask off was in the room given to him by the Corrupted Vocaloid, resting on his preferred bedroll rather than the -loathe as he to admit- comfortable bed. It was too comfy for him and would only make him think too much than letting him fall asleep peacefully.

Removing his coat, gloves, shoes, and socks, he placed them near his bedroll in a neat pile and turned on his headphones to hear the familiar, oddly, comforting haunting song he liked so much.

With a sigh, the long haired male closed his tired eyes, awaiting the dreams he would never remember when morning comes.

VCVCVCVCVC

A male adolescent woke up from his slumber, finding himself bound in chains and locked in a prison cell that looked like it had seen better days. Dried blood caked the floor and walls. He did not know whose blood it was but he had a hunch that it was his. The only question was why?

The ravenette tried to stand up but found the task to be extremely difficult as his body finally registered the pain of his injuries. He fell back down on the floor, groaning and was later rewarded with a coughing fit that ended when he vomited a dark red liquid.

"That answers my question." He thought with a grimace as pain wracked his body anew.

Propping himself up a nearby wall as gently as he could manage, he examined the extent of his injuries and resisted the urge to wince.

His left kneecap had been dislocated while his right leg looked like a bloody blueberry from the bruises that covered it. He could feel that at least six of his ribs had been broken, making it difficult for him to breathe and that was not counting the fact that he had several thin, but deep slices on his torso.

His back felt like some crazy sadist had whipped him multiple times with an electric whip and his left arm looked like it had been put through a woodchipper and miraculously managed to remain intact yet strangely, his right arm was only dislocated.

Not willing for his most of his injuries to heal in an improper way, he gently positioned his body to the wall in a way so that it would let him bash his right shoulder to it and pop his arm back into place.

And bash it to the wall he did.

His blood shot brown eyes widened at the pain and he bit his lip so hard that it it drew blood just to muffle his scream. But, his gambit had worked and his right arm was back in its socket. Taking a deep breath, he then used his realigned arm to pop his kneecap back and this time, he let himself scream.

The pain that was coursing through his body overloaded his mind and he was in the realm of unconsciousness once more.

VCVCVCVC

When the teenager had finally came to, he was still bound in chains (his feet was anyway) but he had already noticed a few differences on his body.

All of his injuries were treated and covered in bandages.

It wasn't the only difference he noticed though. His prison cell had been cleansed of his blood and what remained of his dirty, shredded pants (or was it a pair shorts? He couldn't even remember anything past the memory of waking up injured) had been replaced by a clean pair of shorts.

"Dear god. I hope it wasn't a girl who did all of...this." He prayed in his mind as if waiting for a response from the heavens to tell him that his guess was correct.