Stitches ~ Scömìche

And Move On

Mitch was taken to a new place, His hand gripping Mitch's frail wrist. He dragged Mitch to a nice room, it had a huge bed with black sheets, a black carpet, everything was black, Mitch noticed after a second, no color in sight.

"Shower," He said simply pushing Mitch through one of the black doors. Mitch stumbled, falling to his knees on the black tiled floor.

He turned on the shower dancing away as the faucet spluttered water. He stripped, dropping his dirty clothing into a neat pile and stepped into the shower. Letting the black paint swirl around his feet before going down the drain.

Mitch stepped out of the shower once the water had run cold and his first reaction of looking at himself in the mirror was pure shock.

He was so pale, and so clean. Mitch ran his fingers through his damp hair, one hand clutches a towel around his waist.

"Are you done my songbird?" He called.

"Yes," Mitch managed in a small voice still unable to tear his eyes away from the man in the mirror. He was so thin. Mitch traced his fingers across each and every rib, feeling his bones as they jutted out. The door opened and out of instinct alone, Mitch shied away. He walked in holding out fresh clothes, which Mitch grasped, his hands tiny compared to His. Mitch slipped them on, liking how they felt against his skin, although everything was white and as Mitch studied himself more, it made him look like a ghost. His skin was so pale it made almost no difference against the absence of color on the clothing.

"Ready my songbird?" He called knocking on the door.

"Yes," Mitch replied and the door opened swiftly, Mitch looked down at his feet and didn't even look up when rough fingers encircled his wrist, dragging him to another place.  

It was a different room, bigger, defiantely cleaner, and much nicer. He smiled and searched Mitch's face for a reaction.

"Do you like it my songbird?" He asked running his finger's through the shorter man's hair. Mitch gave a tiny nod, still looking about the room in shock.

"Well," The man said, leading Mitch into the room and setting him on the bed. He walked over to a desk, which like the rest of the room was pure white, a perfect contrast for the other room, and picked up a folder, also white. "Inside is music," Mitch felt himself nodding. "I expect you to learn it," More nodding came from Mitch. He nodded seeming to be sastifyid. "Goodbye my songbird," He said smiling before the door clicked closed. Mitch waited until he heard the door being locked before he got off the pure white bed and glanced around the room.

He walked slowly over to the desk, running his fingers along the edges of smooth wood. He picked up the music and realized with sinking feeling that the key was too low for him, but he was too timid to ask for a different part, so he simply sung an octave higher. Mitch put down the music before moving on to the drawers, to his joy he found a CD that had the same song that was on the music on the CD, Mitch searched around for a player of some sort, but his quick sweep of the room came up empty so he just replaced the CD and kept looking through the drawers.

In the second drawer was a singer paper clip. Mitch glanced at the lock feeling giddy. He tucked the paper clip inside the pillow case so He couldn't find it and continued his search of the room.

Mitch wanted to save the vanity for last, but he was drawn to it, so he ended up looking at it before he searched the doors leading off of the room. Inside the drawers there was only a hairbrush, which Mitch was glade for, he took it up immediately and ripped it through his hair. He bit his lip but continued brushing through the pain until he was sastifyid that every single tangle was out of his hair.

He replaced the brush in the drawers before walking over to the first door. He smiled when he realized it was a bathroom. It was all his for the door he entered through was the only door that you could access the bathroom with.

Mitch went straight to the sink and took up the cup provided filling it before drinking it in one breath, he drank a couple of these until he was no longer thirsty. He left the bathroom and headed to the one last door.

He opened and saw that inside there was a laundry shoot and rows and rows of exactly the same clothing he was wearing now. Mitch ran a hesitant hand over the articles of clothing before grabbing the folder of music and sitting on the bed trying to learn the piece.